Forever Doctors
by DoctorAsh42
Summary: The TARDIS lands in New York City in the early 21st Century, where the Eighth Doctor and Lucie find themselves caught up in a murder investigation. With alien technology as the cause of death, who or what is the culprit? Along for the ride are a no-nonsense NYPD detective named Jo Martinez and a well-dressed, eccentric and mysterious medical examiner named Dr. Henry Morgan...
1. Chapter 1

**Forever Doctors**

By DoctorAsh42

**Part One:**

It was a cold, quiet autumn night. Well, as quiet as you can get for New York City. And technically, it wasn't night; the first light of day was just beginning to kiss the horizon.

A few alley cats were fighting over some discarded food scraps, when suddenly a rusty old door burst open at the nearby factory. The place was dilapidated and had been abandoned for years, yet at that very moment, a man ran for his life, frost clinging to his breath.

He flew out the door and down the rusted metal stairs. When he was close enough to the ground, he vaulted over the railing and landed in a crouch, before springing back up and running towards the alleyway. There had once been a chain-link fence bordering the courtyard, but it had long-since rusted away.

He could see the alley and he actually smiled; for the first time in weeks, he smiled. But it didn't last long. He felt a wave of heat as a bolt of white-hot energy sizzled past his left ear; the crackling energy sounded like a thunderstorm, it was that close. He stopped his sprint and his heart leapt into his throat as he watched a trash can explode, leaving nothing but a black scorch mark behind. It had been a warning shot.

"_STOP!"_

His feet were frozen to the ground – he was so frightened! But slowly – very slowly – he turned his head back over his shoulder, his dark face glistening with sweat. His eyes bulged as he saw it – the thing that had been controlling him for weeks; treating him like its slave. Less than that.

"_You will return!"_ it said in its cold, robotic voice.

He shook his head, "No, I'm not going back, I'd rather die!"

"_So be it!_"

"No," he whimpered. "For the love of God, please, no!"

The lights on top of its head flashed. It said something, but he didn't hear. He was too busy crying. He saw a blast of white light and then everything went black.

* * *

The sun bathed the city in the deep orange light that heralded a new day. Despite the hour, the city was already abuzz with the noise of cars and people and dogs and cats; it was the city that never slept after all.

In a quiet courtyard outside of a disused factory, a strange groaning sound filled the air. Litter swirled around as a faint blue shape began to materialise.

The TARDIS came to rest with a thud and a moment later her doors creaked open as a man with long, curly hair and a green frock coat hurried outside.

The Doctor breathed in, taking in that New York atmosphere. He choked and coughed – perhaps that hadn't been such a good idea. He kicked an empty can and watched it skip its way across the courtyard. He kept his hands tucked in his trouser pockets to try to keep them occupied, but he was just too fidgety.

Relenting, he fished his pocket-watch from his waistcoat pocket and checked the time.

"Come on, Lucie! What's taking you?"

A girl's voice rang out from deep within the TARDIS. "Well, someone's gotta do the bleedin' washing-up!"

A few minutes later, a young girl emerged and pulled the doors closed behind her. She had short, blonde hair, blue eyes and big hoop earrings. Lucie Miller had been travelling with The Doctor for a little while now, ever since the Time-Lords had plucked her out of her home in 2006 and placed her in witness protection, under The Doctor's care. It turned out that they were trying to stop her from becoming a ruthless dictator in her future, only they'd got the wrong girl and the whole thing had turned into a pretty big mess. Still, she liked travelling with The Doctor, so she'd decided to stick around.

"You don't give much notice, do ya? One minute, I'm sittin' there in me jammies, eating me toast, then you start runnin' about the place, screamin' about how nice it'd be to go for a stroll in Central Park. You don't allow much time for gettin' changed or cleanin' the plates, do ya?"

"That's why I sleep in my clothes, Lucie, it makes the mornings so much easier." He raised an eyebrow. "And to be perfectly honest, I didn't even know that the TARDIS had plates."

"Alright, where and when are we, then?" she asked as The Doctor locked the TARDIS.

"New York City, about ten years into your future, give or take." He tucked the key back into his pocket and took in a deep breath. "There's something special about New York in the Spring."

A cool breeze whipped up and cut right through Lucie's jacket, causing her to wrap her arms around her body. "It doesn't feel like Spring," she said.

"Yes, it is a bit nippy, isn't it? I might have been off by a few months. Still, New York in the Autumn is nice too."

They walked around the TARDIS, heading for the alleyway that would take them out to the street, but they were cut short.

Lucie gasped and The Doctor held his arm out in front of her, before kneeling down to examine the body that lay before them.

"Is he...?"

"Dead?" finished The Doctor. "Yes, I'm afraid so," he said as he checked for a pulse.

"What happened," she asked as she crouched down beside the Time Lord.

"Believe it or not, I think he was killed by an energy weapon of some description." He pressed against the man's stomach. "Notice how soft and spongy the tissue is?" He rolled the man onto his side. "And look, no entry or exit wounds; no markings of any kind."

"So, we're talking aliens, then," said Lucie. "Blimey, so much for a nice walk in the park."

"Now, now, let's not jump to conclusions just yet. Though, it is pretty safe to say that whatever weapon killed this man, wasn't made locally."

They both looked up as they heard footsteps coming from the alleyway. Before they could do anything, a pudgy police officer with a thick moustache, drew a gun and yelled, "Freeze! Stand up slowly and put your hands in the air, palms facing me."

The Doctor and Lucie looked at each other and then, in perfect unison, they both stood up, very slowly, with their hands in the air.

* * *

Dr. Henry Morgan admired himself in the mirror, as he expertly tied his tie around his neck. He'd had so much practice with the application of neckwear that he could have done it blindfolded.

He pulled his collar down and stepped back, taking himself in. He cut a rather dashing figure, even if he did say so himself – a look two centuries in the making. He added the finishing touch – a pocket watch which he hooked onto his blue waistcoat.

He was about to head upstairs for breakfast, when Abe knocked on the doorway, before entering with the phone pressed against his chest. A tough and sensible man in his seventies, Abe was Henry's adopted son and one of only two living souls to know of Henry's immortality. The other being a rather nefarious individual named Adam – a fellow immortal – who was currently in a hospital bed, prisoner in his own paralysed body.

"Morning, Henry. It's Jo – says she's going to need you ASAP – she's got a weird one."

Henry sighed a little – he was feeling rather famished. All the same, he smiled politely and said that he would be on his way.

"Alright," said Abe as he walked out of the room, "he's on his way. Give me a minute, I'll write down the address.'

Henry picked up his coat and scarf, putting them on as he went up to the shop above – _Abe's Antiques_.

"Here," said Abe, handing him a brown paper bag, "take a bagel with a little extra schmear."

Henry frowned. "Thank-you, Abraham, but you know how I feel about bagels. A doughnut with fish on top, does not a breakfast make."

Abe raised his eyebrows. "Is that so? Well, even immortals need to eat and breakfast is the most important meal of the day – or so I hear." He shrugged, "But I suppose you could always ask the cabbie to swing by a drive-thru."

Henry looked positively incredulous and Abe smiled – he knew that would do it. Fast and Food were two dirty little four-letter words to Henry.

Relenting, Henry accepted the bag and thanked Abe before walking out the door, curious to see what work of morbid fascination the city had to offer him today.

* * *

"Just once," said Lucie, "I'd like to start off a day _without_ being imprisoned or tortured."

They had been handcuffed and a rather rough-handed officer was now bowing her head and forcing her into the back of a patrol car.

"Well, look on the bright side, these aren't Cybermen or crazed Greek gods, they're human police officers. I'd say that we can expect a much nicer treatment than we're accustomed to – ooph!" The Doctor grunted as the officer behind him pushed him down without care and forced him into the car.

"Don't you watch the news?" said Lucie. "These are _American_ police and we're a couple of foreigners. We'll be lucky if we don't end up bloodied and bruised and locked away in a dark, dingy cell in Guantanamo Bay."

The patrol car pulled out onto the street with its two prisoners, just as a bright yellow New York City taxicab pulled up by the alleyway entrance.

Henry got out, leaned back in to pay the driver and then ventured up the alley, to the crime-scene. Uniformed officers had taped off the area, but Henry flashed them his Medical Examiner's identification and they let him pass.

He saw the body, sprawled face-down, partially in a puddle. It had rained the other night – judging by the size of the puddle, it was left over from that.

Henry's eyes darted around, taking in every detail of the scene, including a large scorch mark, marked with an evidence tag, which he passed at the end of the alley. He entered the courtyard and frowned. Not at the body, but an old police box, sitting at an angle a few feet from the victim. He smiled – he hadn't seen one of those for ages.

The forensics boys were just packing up, leaving a single person remaining with the body. She was 5"2, though her shoes added an inch and a half – not heels, you understand, just thick soles. Tough; practical. She had a good, sturdy figure that was strong, yet feminine; Her brown eyes and sharp features gave her an exotic beauty that was accentuated by the thick, brown hair that framed her face. Henry would be lying if he didn't find Jo's features and physique...interesting. From a strictly medical point of view, of course. But he'd been hurt some time ago and, although there was a distinct connection between Jo and himself, he wasn't yet prepared to test it.

She wore a purple, silk business shirt and black trousers; her badge and gun on full display, but not readily accessible to any ne'er-do-well who might think her easy to overcome.

"Good morning, Jo," said Henry, smiling. He handed her the coffee that he'd picked up on the way.

She threw her head back and smiled, before taking the cup gratefully. "Henry, you're a life-saver."

"So," he said, crouching down over the victim, "what have we got here?"

"Well, I was hoping you could tell me."

"May I?" he asked, looking up at Jo.

"Crime Scene say it's all clear," she confirmed.

Henry pulled a pair of blue latex gloves from his pocket and rolled them on, before leaning right over the body, so that his nose and that of the corpse were practically touching. He examined every inch of the victim's body with a small torch, looking for any indicator of cause of death.

"The victim would seem to be male, late thirties, African-American." He continued to move down the body, examining the arms, the abdomen, the legs. "He appears slightly malnourished. Combined with the state of his clothes, I'd say that he was probably homeless."

"Any idea on cause of death?"

"Not yet," he said, searching for needle marks along the length of the right arm. "No gun shot or stab wounds. No signs of an overdose..." Henry grabbed the victim's shoulder with one hand and started to roll him over, using his other hand to grab the torso. "Oh!" he said, intrigued, as soon as he touched the torso.

"What is it?"

"Feel this, Jo. Right here."

She crouched down next to Henry and placed her coffee on the ground. She placed her hand next to where his was and her heart raced a little with their hands being so close.

She pushed those schoolgirl thoughts to the back of her mind and focused on the case at hand. She pressed her fingers into the victim's flesh and frowned, confused.

"It's all soft and squishy," she said. "Spongy."

"Exactly," said Henry. "It's as if the innards have been liquefied."

"What could have caused that?" Suddenly a thought crossed her mind. "Henry, this isn't some sort of flesh-eating virus or something, is it?" She sprang back up and took three steps backwards.

"Possibly," muttered Henry as he continued examining the back of the victim. "But I shouldn't think so. Besides, if it is, we've all been well and truly exposed by now."

"Is that supposed to make feel any better?" she scoffed. "I'm going to have to call the CDC," she said as she pulled out her phone.

Henry lifted up the victim's shirt a little and frowned. "Cancel that call, Jo. I'm almost certain that whatever killed this man wasn't biological in nature. Look at this."

Jo put her phone away and then took a few tentative steps back towards the body, still feeling wary. She bent over and looked at the large bruise on the victim's side, which Henry was pointing at. No, not a bruise, more like a burn.

Now she was frowning too. "A burn? Torture?"

"I don't think so; I think that whatever liquefied his insides also left this burn."

She stood upright again and Henry followed her. "Any idea what could have done that?"

"Well," he said, removing his gloves, "probably the same thing that did that." He pointed at the scorch mark and Jo bit her lip. This was going to be one of those days.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucie's neck was itchy. Wasn't it bleedin' typical? You could go all day without feeling itchy, but the minute you can't scratch yourself, bits of you start feeling like they're crawling with ants. Then, of course, there were her arms and hands, which were terribly uncomfortable, due to them being handcuffed and squished between her back and the cheap leather upholstery of the patrol car.

"Don't suppose you could let me out of these things to scratch an itch," she said, hopefully.

The two officers up front just ignored her, the only noise being the chatter that played over the radio.

"Didn't think so," she muttered.

She looked at The Doctor, who looked calm, as he usually did. She wondered what he was thinking. Was he devising an escape plan? Was he thinking about the dead man, solving his murder without the need to investigate further? Or was this all just an amusing little side-step for him that scarcely warranted a thought or care from the Time Lord's superior brain.

He leaned forward, right up to the mesh that separated them from the officers, the seatbelt stretching to its limit. The leather creaked softly as he moved.

"Sir, sit back in your seat," said the officer in the passenger seat, looking over his shoulder. He was young and African-American – he couldn't have been on the force for very long.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to attempt any aggressive action. I was just wondering what will happen to my TARDIS?"

The officer raised an eyebrow, "Your what?"

"That big, blue box that you found me with. It's very important to me and I want to make sure that nothing happens to it."

The young officer looked at his partner, an older, Caucasian man with silver and grey hair. His disinterested eyes remained on the road, but he was obviously aware that the question was being passed on to him. "It'll be taken to an impound yard," he said as they stopped at a red light.

"Right," said The Doctor, "and where might that be?"

The older officer looked at them in the rear-view mirror and said, "If you're cleared, you'll get your box back in due time. Don't worry about it. Now, please, sit back in your seat." The light turned green and the officer's eyes were on the road once again as they started off with the rest of the traffic.

The Doctor leaned back and fidgeted for a moment, trying to get comfortable.

"You two are British, right?" asked the younger officer, looking over his shoulder once more.

The Doctor and Lucie looked at each other.

"More or less," said The Doctor.

"What does that mean?" Asked the officer, confused.

"I'm more, he's less," said Lucie.

The officer didn't know what to make of that, so he just moved on. "Must be kind of weird for you, driving on the right-hand side."

"Oh yeah," said Lucie, "out of everything that's gone on this morning, your road laws are what's really got me flummoxed."

The officer frowned and turned back to the windscreen. You try to be friendly...

"Either of you been in a cop car before?" asked the older officer.

"Oh yes," said The Doctor, "my companion and I spend a great deal of time travelling around in a police vehicle. Though, ours is a bit more spacious."

Both the officers looked back at them and Lucie gave an awkward smile, before muttering, "Not helping, Doctor."

* * *

"So, what, you're saying that our killer used some sort of ray gun or something?" Jo was joking, but honestly, she wasn't entirely sure that she was wrong. Henry had spun some pretty weird theories in the time that she'd known him, but they'd always turned out to be true.

Henry was crouched down, examining a sliver of half-melted metal. He'd deduced that it had come from a trash can that had once stood where the scorch mark now resided.

"Well, I don't know about that, but what is clear is that this garbage can was melted by extreme heat – over 2, 500 degrees Fahrenheit, given that that's the melting point of steel."

"The Crime Scene guys said the same thing," said Jo, "they took some samples for analysis. But if the trash can and the victim were both hit by the same thing, shouldn't our vic be a puddle on the ground?"

Henry rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Not necessarily. If the innards were indeed liquefied, then the heat source may have been fired in some sort of concentrated beam that can be focused on the internal organs, leaving only a superficial burn on the flesh."

Jo shook her head, "So we are talking about ray guns here. Great." She turned around and started walking back towards the body. Henry quickly fell in to step beside her. "OK, the first step is for you to get the autopsy underway. Let me know what you find out."

"And what will you be doing in the meantime?" asked Henry.

"I've got a couple of suspects to interview. You'd like them; they're a couple of your countrymen – a man and a girl. The guy reminds me of you: British, eccentric dress sense, kind of odd."

Henry looked at Jo out of the corner of his eye, "Believe me, Jo, there is no other man like me."

* * *

"Let us outta here, already!" Bellowed Lucie Miller through the interview room door, "It's been over an hour! Don't we get a phone call or somethin'?" Still no answer from the other side.

"Who exactly would you call?" asked The Doctor. He was sitting down, calmly resting his cuffed hands on the table, with his coat hanging neatly over the back of his chair.

"That's not the point," said Lucie. "It's a matter of principle, isn't it? We've got rights, we deserve to be treated like Human Beings. No offence," she added quickly.

"None taken."

"Besides, these cuffs are shaffin' me wrists somethin' severe."

She stepped away from the door and awkwardly ran her shackled hands through her hair. Her brown jacket was hanging over the vacant chair next to The Doctor, leaving her wearing a white singlet-top and black trousers.

"They could at least turn the heat down!" she said, yelling the last part towards the door.

"I believe it's a subtle technique, used to make us uncomfortable and easier to interrogate," said The Doctor. "Still, you have to admit, as far as imprisonment and interrogation goes, this is all a rather nice change of pace for us, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah, how do you reckon that?" she asked as she finally relented and sat down next to The Doctor.

"Well, it's all relatively civil here, isn't it? I mean, we got fingerprinted – can you believe it? I've never been fingerprinted before. Usually my captors prefer to strap me down to a table and stick electrodes to my head. Look, they even gave us refreshments." He indicated the Styrofoam cups of water and plate of stale donuts on the table. "Terrible for our pancreas', but still a rather lovely gesture."

Suddenly, the door opened for the first time in over an hour. This time, however, it wasn't a grumpy, middle-aged uniformed officer who entered, but an attractive detective in her thirties. In her hand she carried a manila envelope – some sort of case file, no doubt.

"Well, it's about bleedin' time!" said Lucie.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting. I'm Detective Jo Martinez, is there anything I can get you? More water? Coffee?"

"I don't suppose a nice, hot cup of tea would be too much to ask for?" said The Doctor.

"Sorry," said Jo, giving a tight-lipped smile, "kitchen's all out of tea."

"Ah, pity," said The Doctor, "but I suspected as much. Well, I suppose that the only thing you could really offer my companion and I would be our freedom."

"Ah, sorry," said Jo, "but you were found standing over the body of a recently murdered man – that raises some questions."

"Technically, we were crouching," said Lucie. "Kinda throws into suspicion, your competence as a police force when you're getting facts wrong right out the gate."

Jo just gave another tight smile and set the file on the table, still closed. "I hear you've waved your rights to attorneys?"

"That's correct," said The Doctor. "The only person I trust to talk on my behalf is myself."

"Same here," said Lucie.

"Well," said Jo, "Let's start with the basics then. Your names."

"Ah yes, how rude of me. I'm The Doctor and this is my friend, Lucie Miller."

"You see, that's the thing," said Jo. "Miss Miller, your driver's license seems to confirm your identity, only it expired six years ago."

"Yeah, I'm pretty forgetful with that kinda stuff," said Lucie, trying not to sound nervous, "bit of a ditz really. I swear to God, though, hand to heart, I haven't driven a day since that thing expired, so there's no need to worry 'bout that."

"It also lists your birthday as the 31st of July, 1988," said Jo. "You look quite young for a twenty-nine year old, Miss Miller."

"Yeah, well, I'm one of the lucky ones," said Lucie. "I look after me skin; moisturise, that sorta thing."

Jo was looking at Lucie intently, trying to read her. She was certainly hiding something.

"We ran your prints too," said Jo. "No match, so you're not in our system. But, I made a few calls overseas – got in touch with my colleagues in London. It turns out that eighteen year old Lucie Miller vanished without a trace in 2006, after moving from Blackpool to London to start a new job." Jo opened the file, revealing a missing persons report with a picture of Lucie in the top, left corner. The case was marked as being open.

Lucie looked a little shocked by this news. "Well, surely not 'without a trace', I mean she must have gone back home eventually – I mean, I must have gone back home – did! I mean, I did go back home." She lowered her head a little and gave The Doctor a sidelong glance.

Lucie had always thought that eventually, when she was tired of travelling with The Doctor, she'd go back home. She'd get all of the adventure out of her system and then settle down and live a normal life. She knew she wasn't that cluey when it came to this time-travel business, but if this was her future, then shouldn't that mean there'd be a record of her returning home? Unless she didn't. She tried not to think about it – she had enough problems to deal with in her present, without borrowing any from her future.

"Well, not according to this, she didn't," Jo said, tapping the file with a finger. Lucie didn't respond.

"And you, Doctor..." she let the word hang, clearly fishing for a name.

"Smith," said The Doctor, "John Smith. If you'd like."

Jo nodded, "Yes, I heard that's what you told the Sergeant. Cute. We ran your prints too."

"And?"

"We found nothing," said Jo. "We searched you and found no I.D – just a bunch of junk: string, paper-clips, confectionary...and this." She placed a sealed zip-lock bag on the table, inside of which there was a long, cylindrical, metal device with a red ring on top.

"My screwdriver," gasped The Doctor, "yes, I was rather upset when your officers took that from me. I assured them that it wasn't dangerous, but they didn't seem to believe me."

"Yeah, that is strange," said Jo. She leaned forward, her tone becoming serious. "Now, I've talked a lot about what I don't know, well, here's what I do know. A man was murdered early this morning, in a manner which has left my people completely baffled. The evidence seems to point towards some sort of advanced or experimental weapon. An officer found you two – foreign citizens with no credible identification – crouching over the body, with an unknown device, possibly a weapon, in your pocket." She leaned back in her chair. "Care to explain?"

Now it was time for The Doctor's tone to change. He too leaned forward, but he remained calm and never seemed threatening.

"Detective Martinez, do you mind if I call you Jo? I once had very dear friend named Jo whom I was rather fond of."

"Detective Martinez will do," she said.

"Fair enough. Detective Martinez, I can tell that you're a rather intelligent woman, as well as a very righteous one. You're more than just another disgruntled civil servant looking to clear a pile of cases on your desk, aren't you? You actually care about the truth; about justice."

Jo was good at masking herself – you had to be in her line of work. But even so, The Doctor saw something shift in her eyes that lead him to believe that he was on the right path.

"You're right, Detective, that man was killed by something the likes of which you've never seen. Now, I'm not certain of whom or what you should be looking for, but I do have some theories; suspects, if you will. We didn't murder that man, but let us help you and I promise that we'll find the thing that did."

Jo sat in silence for a few moments, processing what he had just said. He was good, she'd give him that. She'd almost bought his act. Almost.

She stood up, taking the file with her, "Interview suspended. You may want to rethink hiring a lawyer." She reached for the door handle...

"The insides were liquefied, weren't they?"

Jo stopped and looked back over her shoulder. The Doctor was looking at her with an intensity that she couldn't quite explain. It wasn't that he was angry or erratic or anything like that, it was just as if there was something behind his eyes that gave him a strength and power unlike anything she'd ever seen before.

She walked back to the table and crossed her arms, looking back at The Doctor.

"You're not doing a very good job of convincing me that you're innocent."

The Doctor stood to meet her eye to eye. She was sure not to show it, but she readied herself for a defensive manoeuvre, should the situation escalate.

"Let me see the body," he said, disregarding her last sentence.

Jo shifted her wait and readjusted her arms, "Excuse me?"

"I imagine that your medical examiner will be conducting an autopsy soon, correct? Allow me to assist him, under your supervision, of course."

"You really think that I'm going to let a murder suspect sit in on the autopsy of his alleged victim?"

"If you need somebody to vouch for me, then call Dr. Grace Halloway, she's an old friend. If memory serves, she should be the Surgeon General by now."

Jo couldn't decide whether this guy was trying to be funny or whether he was actually crazy. "I'm not calling the Surgeon General to vouch for you."

"No, no, you're right," muttered The Doctor, "I'm pretty sure that she's at a conference in Cancun right now – might not be able to reach her in time. Wait, I've got a better idea!" He spun around and raced for his coat, which was still hanging over his chair.

Jo whipped out her gun and yelled, "Freeze!"

Lucie cringed back in her seat with her hands over her head, while The Doctor looked at Jo innocently, with his shackled hands held up. "Please, Detective, trust me."

Jo kept her gun trained on him as he fished out a small leather card holder with some sort of I.D badge. She didn't understand how her officers could have missed it when they searched him. He showed it to Jo and said, "Contact the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce – they'll vouch for me."

Jo took the I.D and scrutinised it. It was for a man named Dr. John Smith – Scientific Adviser to some sort of military organisation called U.N.I.T. It seemed legitimate, but it clearly didn't belong to her suspect. The man in the picture was much older, with a large nose and white hair. Still, there was something about this guy...

"OK, fine," said Jo. "I'll make _one _call, but that's it."

"And then you'll let me see the body?"

Jo turned around and reached for the door, "Don't press your luck." This time the door closed behind her.

"Well," said Lucie dryly, "she seemed nice. I'll tell you what; it's true what they say about Americans and guns, eh?"

The Doctor didn't respond. He just sat there, thinking.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucas Wahl was daydreaming. He had a tendency to do that quite a bit. In reality, he may have been pouring himself a cup of coffee in the staff kitchen of the Medical Examiner's Office, but in his mind he was writing his next short film. That was his true passion, you see: Making horror films. And while, yes, he'd had to take a day job to pay the bills, fortunately it was one that went hand in hand with his passion. Not only did working as an assistant to a Medical Examiner mean that he had ample inspiration for gruesome and grisly murders, as well as the medical knowledge to make them seem realistic, but it also gave him access to some great facilities, which he had occasionally availed himself to. All tastefully done and in the name of art, of course.

Suddenly, Lucas was brought back to reality by his boss' voice. "Lucas?"

Startled, he spilled coffee all over the sink and frantically searched for something to wipe it up with.

"Lucas?"

He grabbed a tea-towel and began dabbing at the puddle of coffee, decided that it was good enough for now and then rushed out of the staff room, leaving his half-empty coffee cup behind.

He nearly skidded as he came round the corner to see Dr. Morgan standing there, looking around the place.

"Ah, Lucas, there you are."

"Uh, yep, good morning, Dr. Morgan," he said in his usual upbeat and chipper manner, "you're in early today. Felt like a nice, morning stroll, did we? Good cardio's the key to staying in shape," he said, making a rowing motion with his hands.

Henry looked up at him the way he often did, exasperated but with a degree of fondness. Lucas could be a buffoon sometimes - no, Lucas was a buffoon all of the time – but he was a good lad.

"No such luck, I'm afraid. I was called to the scene of a murder, the body should have arrived by now – a John Doe."

"Ah, yes," said Lucas, grabbing a chart. "He arrived just a little while ago." He handed the chart to Henry. "What've we got this time? Shot? Stabbed? Poisoned? Impaled on a giant spike? Run over by a steamroller?"

Henry looked up from the chart, giving him that look again.

"I'll go prep the body for autopsy," Lucas said, pointing down the corridor, before heading in the same direction.

* * *

Jo Martinez looked confused when she re-entered the interrogation room.

"Detective Martinez," said The Doctor, "how nice to see you again. Did you contact my friends at U.N.I.T?"

"Yes, actually," she said, sounding unsure.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense, are you lettin' us go or not?" said Lucie, impatiently.

Jo reverted to professional mode and fixed them both with a piercing stare. "I've been ordered to release you both and allow you to investigate in whatever manner you see fit." She spoke as if the words tasted like bile in her mouth. "Furthermore," she sighed, "the NYPD is to offer our full co-operation and afford you every available resource or stay out of your way, whichever you deem to be most appropriate." From her tone of voice, it was obvious that she was quoting somebody.

"Excellent!" said the Doctor as he sprang to his feet. His handcuffs clanked as they fell to the table, open.

Jo's eyes bulged, "How did you...?"

"I learned a thing or two from an old friend of mine, Harry Houdini."

"You mean we could have escaped at any time over the last few hours?" asked Lucie, disbelief and shock filling her voice.

"Well, yes, but that would have been rude," he responded, smiling at Jo who was still looking at him in disbelief.

* * *

Henry entered the Autopsy Room wearing his white lab-coat pulled on a pair of blue, latex gloves. Lucas was already waiting by the table, wearing his usual scrubs and transparent apron, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

"So, bit of a weird one today, eh Doc'?"

"Yes," said Henry, "you could say that."

"So, what are you thinking, _Star Wars _or _Star Trek_?"

Henry fixed him with a confused look. "Excuse me?"

"The ray gun," Lucas clarified, "do you think it was more of a phaser or a blaster?"

Henry wasn't sure which would be worse, whether Lucas was mocking him or whether he was being deadly serious. Either way, he thought it best not to encourage him and so simply told him to ready the surgical tools.

Henry was just about to pull a black apron over his clothes when he heard Jo's voice.

"Henry, hold up for a sec."

"Ah, Detective, what brings you down here? Don't you have suspects to interrogate?" He looked up and saw that she was not alone. She was accompanied by a young girl and a most peculiar man, dressed in clothes that even he knew were too far out of fashion for this day and age. The eccentric Englishman, then.

"Henry, I'd like you to meet Dr. John Smith. He'll be assisting with your autopsy today." Jo lowered her eyes, a sign of shame or embarrassment, Henry noted. Her stance suggested that she was feeling defensive – it wasn't her choice to bring her suspects down here, then. That meant that she was under orders from her superiors. For a murder suspect to be allowed to take part in an autopsy - of the man whom he was accused of killing, no less – he must have some serious clout. Political, financial or otherwise.

Henry tilted his head and offered a tight smile. "With all due respect, Detective Martinez..."

"The Commissioner is insisting on it," said Jo.

Henry raised both eyebrows in surprise. "The Commissioner?"

"Apparently so," said Jo without any humour or enthusiasm.

Henry conceded by nodding his head. He looked at the strangely dressed man and held out his hand. "Dr Henry Morgan, pleased to meet you Dr. Smith."

The Doctor took his hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Morgan. You can just call me The Doctor."

"That could get a little confusing around here," said Henry.

"I'm sure we'll manage."

They ended the handshake and Henry said, "I rather admire your attire, Doctor, very fetching. I'm something of an old-fashioned sort myself. And I must say that it's refreshing to be in the company of a well-dressed individual."

Lucas' head shot up. "Hey, I wore a cravat that one time, remember?"

"Why, thank-you," said The Doctor, ignoring Lucas. I couldn't help but admire your pocket-watch myself; very nice indeed. It must be well over three-hundred years old."

"Yes, a family heirloom," said Henry before covering the watch with his apron. "I see that you have a rather nice timepiece yourself."

"This old thing?" he said, flipping open his own watch. "It does the job, but it pales in comparison to your exquisite work of art."

Lucie rubbed a hand down her face. "Blimey, I think I'm going to be sick. I never would have thought you'd find true love in a morgue, Doctor."

"Yeah, Henry, maybe if you two are finished, you could get this thing started?" said Jo.

Henry nodded apologetically toward Jo before turning to Lucas. "Sorry Lucas, but it looks like I won't be needing you right now, perhaps you could keep Detective Martinez and The Doctor's friend company."

"If it's all the same to you, Henry, I'd like to keep an eye on The Doctor, here. But you can look after Miss Miller for me, Lucas."

Lucas looked at Lucie and nearly knocked over a tray of instruments, but managed to catch them just in time. "Ah-Ah-Ah, yeah, sure," he said, placing the tray and its contents back on the table and awkwardly crossing his arms. "Yeah, we can hang out or chill or whatever, you know?"

Lucie smiled, despite herself. He was cute in that adorkable kind of way.

"I'm Lucas, Lucas Wahl – Dr. Morgan's medical assistant."

"Hi Lucas, I'm Lucie Miller – The Doctor's time-travel assistant."

Lucas laughed and then said, "Excuse me?"

Lucie just smiled as she turned and headed out of the autopsy room, while Lucas ran to catch up with her.

Henry sighed - poor Lucas. "So, Doctor, have you ever performed an autopsy before?" He unrolled a leather tool kit which held all manner of instruments.

"Well," The Doctor said, drawing the word out as he slipped his coat off, "I've dabbled here and there." He folded his coat neatly and hung it over an empty gurney, before rolling up his shirtsleeves and stuffing his cuff-links in his trouser pockets.

"That raises an interesting question," said Jo. "What kind of doctor are you, anyway?"

Henry gave an inquisitive look, clearly also keen to hear the answer.

The Doctor paused for a moment, in the middle of washing his hands, before responding. "I'm a doctor of many things," he said as he dried his hands and grabbed a pair of latex gloves. "Like I said, I dabble."

"A real renaissance man, huh?" asked Jo, with an eyebrow raised.

"As it happens, I have spent a bit of time in the Renaissance," he said as he pulled an apron over his waistcoat. "My good friend Leonardo lives there."

Jo and Henry exchanged looks. She couldn't believe it, but for once Henry wasn't the weirdest one in the room.

The Doctor smiled at Henry, blissfully ignorant or perhaps uncaring of what they were currently thinking of him. "Well, after you, Doctor."

* * *

"So, do you like comic-books? I love them. Well, not comic-books," he said quickly, "graphic-novels, you know? They're a lot more artistic and...mature..."

Lucas was leaning against the counter in the break room, trying desperately to look cool. He wasn't one hundred per-cent sure, but he had a terrible feeling that it wasn't working.

"Oh, yeah, right," said Lucie before sipping some coffee from a Styrofoam cup.

"Do you...read...comics, by any chance?" He was a mass of hand gestures and awkward poses – Lucie was certain that if she were to nail his hands down, he'd be rendered mute.

"Oh, well, I did like that superhero one - what was it? _Watchmen?_ Yeah, that was pretty cool."

Lucas' face suddenly lit up. Common ground! He wasn't a loser!

"Yes," he said, throwing a hand towards her, like a magician choosing a volunteer from the audience. "Yes, _Watchmen_, a timeless classic by one of your countrymen; a great master of the art: Mr. Alan Moore."

"I think they made a movie of it, didn't they?" she said.

Lucas nodded a little too intently. "They certainly did. What-what did you think of it? I personally prefer the film's ending – controversial stance, I know." He held his hands up and took a step back.

"I haven't actually seen it. Gosh, I haven't been to the movies since...for a while."

"Yeah," said Lucas, leaning against the counter and folding his arms, "mainstream cinema has been going through a bit of a rough patch lately. I tend to steer clear of it myself. I actually make my own films," he said quickly, as if he'd just remembered the fact.

"For real?" she said, sounding genuinely impressed. "That's pretty flippin' cool."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, standing a little taller. "It's my passion, you know. I want to become a real master of the art and this, this," he said pointing all around him, "this is just to pay the bills. Because, you know, art shouldn't become a job. I don't want to do it for the money." He shrugged, trying to be simultaneously impressive but humble.

Lucie smiled. She couldn't believe it, but she actually didn't mind that he was really awkwardly trying to chat her up. And doing a rubbish job of it too.

"What about you?" asked Lucas, confidence now clipping his words. "Do you have any hobbies?"

Lucie thought for a moment. She wasn't sure that travelling in time and space counted as a hobby.

"Oh, I travel," she said.

* * *

"Unbelievable," said Henry.

"What?" asked Jo, looking over Henry's shoulder. "Oh, God!"

"It's exactly as I suspected. The kidneys, liver, spleen; most of the internal organs have been turned to mush. And take a look at this, these blood vessels, it looks as if the blood has been...evaporated."

Jo was a homicide detective and she'd sat in on plenty of autopsies before, so she had a cast-iron stomach. But even so, she found herself having to look away from the mushy mess that Henry was currently sifting through.

"Yes," said The Doctor, "energy weapons may seem relatively painless, but I can assure you that they are a rather nasty way to go."

Jo looked at Henry with wide, imploring eyes. "So, you really do believe that this guy was killed by some sort of...of..."

"Energy weapon?" offered The Doctor.

Jo held her hand towards The Doctor and gave Henry a thin, tight-lipped smile.

"Well, that would certainly explain these injuries, yes," said Henry reluctantly.

Jo ran a hand through her hair. "OK, so if we're talking about some sort of prototype weapon, that means military." She whipped out her phone. "I'm going to make some calls."

"I assure you that you'll be wasting your time, Detective," said The Doctor.

Jo looked at him, midway through dialling a number. "Oh and why's that?"

"Because whatever killed this man wasn't from Earth. It's still a good century or two off from humans having this kind of technology, even at a rudimentary level."

Jo shook her head, "Please don't tell me that you're talking about aliens."

"And what if I am?"

Jo looked from The Doctor to Henry and back again. "Ok, field trip's over – you and Miss Miller are going back to the interview room."

"Detective, I know that this is all a lot for you take in, but I need you to suspend your disbelief. Lives may depend on it. You know that I work with U.N.I.T and I can be trusted, you can see that something bizarre is going on. You've already started down this path, why not follow me further down the rabbit hole and see where we come out?"

Jo's face cast a range of emotions all in conflict with one another. She took a few steps closer to Henry. He was a bastion of logic and reason; a man capable of seeing what nobody else could see. She trusted him above all others.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I don't know," said Henry as he peered at The Doctor. He certainly wasn't giving any indicators that he was lying. Of course, that didn't matter if he was crazy. There was something odd about him though, something that he couldn't put his finger on, something...uncanny. It was like those horrid computer graphics that they seemed to always use in motion pictures nowadays. Abe found the technology to be amazing, but Henry had always despised it, especially when it came to computer-generated people. Because, when it came down to it, no matter how good the software, there was a certain spark to human life that just couldn't be captured by a series of ones and zeroes.

Henry had the same feeling when he looked at this Doctor fellow. Over the course of his long life, Henry had seen so many faces. He'd seen features slowly change over the centuries as races began to mix more and more and humanity continued to develop in almost invisible ways. He'd seen humanity don an almost infinite number of guises and yet when he looked at The Doctor, something just didn't feel right. The features looked human enough, but that spark felt just as absent in him as it did in those computer models.

"I think that The Doctor is all we've really got to go with right now," he said after a long silence. "It can't hurt to, as you say Doctor, continue down the rabbit hole."

The Doctor smiled, he liked this Dr. Morgan. He had a feeling there was something special about him.

"Alright, what now, then?" asked Jo, still clearly unconvinced.

"Now, Detective, I think it would be a good idea to return to the crime-scene. Care to join us Dr. Morgan?"


	4. Chapter 4

"So I just said, 'hey pal, don't blame me, I just work here!'"

Lucie couldn't help herself, she completely cracked up, laughing uncontrollably.

Lucas was grinning from ear to ear. It was actually working! She actually thought he was funny! He had a chance!

"Oh God," said Lucie, wiping a tear from her eye, "blimey, did you really say that?"

"Well," said Lucas, drawing out the word, "not in so many words, but I'd like to think that it was strongly implied."

This elicited another series of guffaws from Lucie, so much so that she nearly fell off her chair.

"Woah!" yelled Lucas as he raced to her side, helping her steady herself.

"Blimey! Wow, aren't you me knight in shinin' armour?"

This made Lucas blush and it was at that moment that he realised how close they were. He was still crouching on the floor, while she was sitting on the chair. At this level, their faces were dangerously close – he could feel the warmth of her breath and he could see every detail of her adorable face.

Something changed in her expression which made Lucas' stomach do a somersault. Oh my God, this was it, wasn't it? They were going to kiss!

Lucas began to prepare himself for those incoming lovely lips when suddenly he was knocked to the ground by a whirlwind.

"Come on Lucie, we've got a crime-scene to investigate! Isn't that exciting?"

Lucas looked up in time to see The Doctor bounding outside and joining Jo and Dr. Morgan.

"Wha-wha...?" was all he managed to say.

"Sorry Lucas," said Lucie, looking down at him as she stood up, "maybe next time, eh?" She gave him a wink and with that she was gone.

Lucas just lay back on the ground, shattered. "Kill me. Somebody juuuuust kill me."

* * *

"You kids OK back there?" asked Jo's partner, Detective Mike Hanson. He was a not altogether unattractive man with an ethnic heritage that was hard to pin-point. A dedicated cop and family man, he wore the signs of his stressful life with pride. He was obviously finding great humour in seeing Henry squeezed in the backseat of Jo's car with a pretty blonde and wacky British dandy.

"We're fine," said Henry, clearly less than comfortable, "thank-you, Detective Hanson."

Jo took a glance at him in the rear-view mirror and couldn't help but smile.

"You know," said Lucie, "I'd never been in a cop car before today and now look at this – twice in one day. What would me Mum say?"

"Yes, it is becoming a bit of a habit, isn't it?" said The Doctor.

Suddenly there was a funky, 80s rock kind of tune which caused Hanson to rummage through his jacket pocket for a moment, before producing a mobile phone and holding it to his ear. "Hanson. What you got?" There was a long pause as he waited for the caller to respond. "Have next of kin been notified?" There was another pause. "Jeez, poor bastard. OK, thanks. Yeah, we're heading out there now. Bye."

He ended the call and returned the phone to his pocket before turning his attention to his partner. "We got an I.D on the vic. Name's Samuel Simmons – 38. Used to own a construction business until the crash back in '08. Filed for bankruptcy and then his wife divorced him not long after; took the kids to live with her parents in California. Been picked up a few times for vagrancy, possession, drunk and disorderly – picked up a heroin habit along the way and served twelve months. Been homeless for the last few years."

"So a homeless junkie," Jo summarised. "Probably a victim of convenience. A test subject maybe? Someone who wouldn't be missed."

"Everybody is missed, Detective," said The Doctor. "One life is just as valuable as another, regardless of the mistakes and hardships that life has seen."

Jo didn't respond, she just took another look in the rear-view. She was surprised to see Henry smiling back at her.

It was lunch time when they pulled up at the crime-scene, as evidenced by the officer who was about a quarter of a way through a deli-made sandwich when he saw the two detectives' badges and hastily threw it to the ground.

They made their way to the flight of metal stairs that led to the factory's back door.

"Are those scorch-marks?" asked The Doctor. He crouched down to examine a roughly circular pattern of faded black marks, spread over the bottom two steps. Similar patterns could be seen spread all the way to the top of the staircase.

"According to forensics, yeah," said Jo.

"What, so now our guy's got a jet-pack too?" Hanson said, incredulously.

The Doctor tensed as he looked up at the door at the top of the stairs.

"You alright?" asked Lucie. "You look off. You know, more than usual."

The Doctor looked back down at the scorch-marks. "I don't know, I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this. Detectives, I think it would be best if I were to enter alone."

Jo looked at Henson then back at The Doctor. "Henson, why don't you stay down here with The Doctor and the others while I go check this place out?"

"No, you can't go in there alone," said The Doctor. "Just let me go in first, trust me."

"Perhaps Jo and I could go in first," said Henry. The others looked at him and he just gave a slight shrug.

"Alright," said Jo, "Henson, keep an eye on these two. Henry, you're with me."

"You've got it boss," replied Henson.

"This is a mistake," said The Doctor.

"Don't worry," said Henry, "I'll throw down my own life before letting any harm befall Detective Martinez."

The Doctor just looked on with great concern as Jo and Henry made their way up the staircase.

"What do you think about that guy?" asked Jo quietly. She had her gun drawn, but lowered. Her footsteps were light and precise, minimising the noise made by the old, metal stairs.

"I'm still not entirely sure," said Henry. "I think that we can trust him, but there's something very odd about him."

"I'll say," Jo scoffed.

They reached the landing and Jo signalled to stay back on the first step. She raised her gun to eye level and, without taking her eyes off the door, she tested the lock. Broken.

Stepping back, she gave the door a light kick, sending it swinging open with a long, drawn out creak. She bit her lip a little – hardly a silent entry, but what could she do?

The Doctor was becoming increasingly agitated as he watched Jo enter through the door. Henry followed a moment later.

"Doctor, what's wrong?" asked Lucie. "I haven't seen you this worked up since we went to that space opera in 6985 and they misattributed that piece to Vivaldi instead of Bellini."

"Something's definitely wrong," said The Doctor, "I can feel it."

"Relax Doc'," said Hanson, "Jo's a big girl. Besides, she'll let me know if there's trouble."

The Doctor clenched his jaw, his eyes never moving from the top of the staircase.

Jo entered through the doorway, slowly and carefully, scanning the area with her gun and torch held at equal level, as per procedure. She heard Henry enter behind her, even though she hadn't given him the all-clear yet.

"Henry, stay back," hissed Jo.

"Not a chance," he whispered back - a smile in his voice.

Jo knew it was pointless arguing with him. "Fine. Well, stay back and out of my way."

Suddenly there was a noise. Something akin to an electric motor moving in the darkness.

"NYPD," called Jo, "who's there?"

Henry peered over Jo's shoulder – there was something moving in the darkness. "Jo, be careful," he whispered.

"If there's anybody there, come out quietly with your hands up," she said, disregarding Henry. "We'd just like to ask you a few questions."

The whirring noise was getting closer now and Jo could see a blue light – a flashlight? It was still out of range of her own torch, but she could see the faint outline of a figure – a machine or vehicle of some sort. Metal clanged as bits and pieces were knocked across the floor.

"OK, stop right there," she said, tightening her grip on her gun.

"Jo..." said Henry, moving closer to her.

* * *

The Doctor crouched down and licked one of the scorch-marks on the stairs.

"That's disgusting," said Hanson.

"Yeah, Doctor, I'm gonna have to agree with Columbo on that one," said Lucie.

"Oh no!" said The Doctor before suddenly shooting back to his feet and bolting up the stairs, his footsteps ringing out with heavy, metallic echoes as he went.

"Doctor, what's wrong?" yelled Lucie, racing after him.

"Lucie, stay back!" he shouted back over his shoulder.

"Hey, get back here!" yelled Hanson, giving chase to both of them.

* * *

Very cautiously, Jo took a few steps further into the darkness and her flashlight began to reflect off of a smooth, metallic dome sitting atop some sort of casing. She cocked her head and lowered her gun slightly.

"Is that a sink plunger?" she said in disbelief.

"Detective Martinez, get out of there!"

She turned around in time to see The Doctor running through the door.

Henry looked between Jo and The Doctor, then at the thing that was emerging from the shadows. It looked like some sort of bomb disposal robot, clad in bronze, with several attachments protruding from its shell.

"Henry, Jo, get down!" yelled The Doctor, sprinting towards them.

Then, Jo and Henry were taken by surprise as a robotic voice screeched out from the thing before them.

"_Ex-ter-min-ate_!"

Jo froze in a state of shock and terror as a beam of white light fired from one of the machine's appendages and headed straight towards her.

**END OF PART ONE**


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Two:**

Time slowed down for Detective Jo Martinez as she watched the beam of light grow closer and all of her senses heightened. She could smell the very air being singed by the white-hot bolt of energy; she could feel the heat and electricity that it created; some sort of static discharge.

She was a cop; trained for life or death situations like this. But cop or no cop, she was still human and she was in a state of shock. As such, instead of taking immediate evasive action, she froze for a whole second before her instincts kicked in. And in a situation such as that, one second could quite literally mean the difference between life and death.

Even as she shifted her weight onto her left leg, preparing to spring herself out of the course of danger, she knew that she had taken too long to react. She knew that she was going to be hit by whatever that thing was. That was alright though, she readied herself for that; made peace with it. It was an inevitability and she accepted it. What really mattered was what she would do next.

She leaned further into her left leg, building up as much tension as possible, so that she could get a good jump, all the while bracing herself.

But then, something unexpected happened. She felt a great force crash into her right-hand side, propelling her through the air.

She turned her head as she flew and saw Henry, bent over with his arms out; he'd pushed her out of the way.

Time sped up again and she crashed to the floor in an awkward pile, which drove the wind from her lungs. Behind her she heard the low crackling sound of the energy beam as it struck something, followed by a scream.

The Doctor looked on in shock as he saw Dr. Morgan struck by the Dalek's energy blast. There was nothing he could do for him.

But what came next shocked him even more.

Instead of collapsing to the ground as a lifeless heap, Dr. Morgan simply...vanished.

That's right, there was a blinding white light that The Doctor had to shield his eyes from and then Dr. Morgan was gone. All that remained of him was his silver pocket-watch.

Even the Dalek seemed surprised.

"_What trickery is this?" _it screeched.

"What did you do to him?" asked The Doctor, equal parts confused and angry. He picked up the watch and examined it, turning it over and holding it up to the light.

"Henry!" bellowed Jo as she scrambled back to her feet. She looked in disbelief at where Henry had been standing a moment before, then pulled out her gun and fired three rounds at the Dalek in short succession.

"No, Jo, wait!" called The Doctor.

He cringed a little as he watched the bullets hit the force-field that surrounded the Dalek's shell and just dissolved.

Jo just stared in disbelief.

"Jo, run!" yelled The Doctor.

Jo knew when to admit that she was out of her league, so she heeded The Doctor's advice and ran for the door in a zigzag pattern so as to make herself less of a target.

The Doctor made to follow her, but then something caught his attention. The Dalek's eyestalk and gun arm were both drooping down, like they were struggling to stay up.

"Hang on," he said, approaching the Dalek with caution, "what's wrong with you?"

"_Stay back or you shall be exterminated!_"

"Nah," said The Doctor, "I don't think so. You look pretty well knackered. Unless I'm very much mistaken, I'd say that you've almost depleted your power supply. What's the matter, solar cells not recharging as well as they used to?" He noted the condition of the plates that surrounded the Dalek's midsection. "No, they don't look very good at all, do they?"

The Doctor took a few cautious steps towards the Dalek, his hands raised slightly in a placating manner.

"_Halt!_"

"What happened to you?" asked The Doctor, ignoring the Dalek's command. "And why are you running around killing homeless people? That doesn't sound like much of a grand Dalek plan to me. Did he find you, is that it? Just some poor, lost soul who made the fatal mistake of taking shelter in the same place where one beaten, battered and altogether pathetic Dalek was hiding?" The Doctor's words were becoming increasingly venomous.

"_Daleks do not hide!_"screeched the Dalek, its case rocking with its fury.

"Oh, really? What do you call this, then?" The Doctor spread his arms out, indicating their dilapidated surroundings. He was right in front of the Dalek now. "Tell me, how did you get here and what are you up to?"

The Dalek's eyestalk swivelled a little, grinding as it did, to fix The Doctor with its cold, blue gaze. _"We fell from the War! We must return to the War!_"

The Doctor cocked his head, "What war?"

* * *

The stairs rang out with their metal clangs as Jo raced down them with her gun still drawn. Hansen and Lucy both looked up at her in shock.

"Jo, what's going on?" called Hansen.

"There's something in there," she replied as she reached the bottom of the stairs, looking back up at the door, "some sort of drone or, or robot or something. Definitely a military-grade prototype of some sort; uses weapons like nothing I've ever seen before." She sounded rattled, even panicked, which was highly unusual for Jo.

"Wait, you talking about this ray gun thing?" asked Hansen, dubious.

"Yeah," said Jo, her eyes wide. "I don't know how else to describe it – it was like this dome-headed robot and it looked kind of hokey, with a sink-plunger sticking out the front-"

"Sink plunger?" said Lucy, her eyes bulging. "Did you say sink plunger?"

"Yeah, but it shot a blast of, I don't know, this white light, like it was pure energy or something; I don't know!"

"Alright, Jo, calm down," said Hansen, griping her shoulders. "Now, where's Henry?"

The little colour that had remained in Jo's face drained away. "He, he's gone. He saved me; pushed me aside, but he got hit by that energy blast or whatever it was."

"What about The Doctor?" said Lucy, looking nearly as pale as Jo. "Is The Doctor alright?"

Jo gasped and turned around, seeing nothing but the empty staircase. "He was supposed to be right behind me," she said; her voice barely a whisper.

* * *

Dr. Henry Morgan gasped as he breached the surface of the Hudson River, rising up out of the water to just below his chest, before sinking back down again, like a whale calf taking its first breath. He immediately began treading water and tried to catch his breath; the routine all too familiar to him.

The water was a little choppy, but relatively smooth. He fought to keep his head up, trying to keep the less than pure water from entering his mouth. He could still feel the phantom pain of the energy blast burning into his skin and it took a moment for him to calm down and gather himself.

_Energy blast_, he thought, _that's a new one_. _I'll have to make a note on that later_.

He looked around and saw a few small vessels scattered around in the distance, but he was pleased to see that the river wasn't very crowded. The downside to his immortality was that whenever he died, he always returned in a nearby body of water. And he was always completely naked.

He had several theories about why this was the case; perhaps it was because his original death had occurred in the ocean or maybe it was some sort of symbol of rebirth. All he knew for sure, though, was that it was a cause of much strife and embarrassment.

He turned his head around, looking for the shortest and most discrete route to dry land, shivering as a fresh breeze whipped up. He spotted a suitable area and took a breath, plunging face-down into the water and beginning the arduous swim back to dry land. He only hoped that Jo and the others were OK.

And that the swim would warm him up a bit.

* * *

"You definitely said, 'sink plunger'," said Lucy, frantically.

"Well, that's what it looked like," said Jo.

"Daleks," snarled Lucy, "why is it always those bleedin' Daleks?"

"Wait, you know what that thing is?" asked Jo in disbelief.

Lucy ignored her and turned for the stairs, "I've gotta help The Doctor!"

"Lucy, wait!" called Jo. She was going to run after her, but Hansen suddenly grabbed her arm. He had just finished calling in about the unfolding situation.

"Jo, wait, dispatch is sending over a S.W.A.T team, we're under orders not to move until they arrive."

"What, so we just let her get herself killed?" argued Jo.

Hansen swallowed hard. "Look Jo, we've got no idea what's going on here; we're in over our heads. There's no sense in you getting yourself killed."

Jo could see the sense in Hansen's argument. She knew that he didn't like sitting on the sidelines any more than she did. She also knew that he had a family to think about. But she didn't - not anymore.

"Stay here and wait for the S.W.A.T," she told him, reloading her gun. "If I'm not back in five minutes then assume I'm out of action." Without another word she ran up the stairs after Lucy.

Hansen groaned and turned on the spot, running a hand through his hair.

"For God's sake, be careful," he called after her.

* * *

"A Time War?" repeated The Doctor in disbelief. "The Daleks are fighting a Time War? With whom? Certainly not the Movellans. Or is it another civil war?" he speculated. "Yes, I could imagine that – two factions of Daleks spreading carnage across all eternity, laying waste to everything, all just to prove who was the more fashionable casing, no doubt."

"_You mock us Doctor, but you would find the truth infinitely more disturbing._"

The Doctor scoffed. "I find everything about you disturbing. You know what? Don't tell me, I don't want to know. I expect I'll find out soon enough anyway."

Suddenly The Doctor was struck with a horrible realisation. The Dalek had said something a moment ago, something truly horrifying, but he'd focused on the wrong part of the sentence; he'd been distracted by the grander aspect and failed to notice the more immediate danger.

"What did you mean by '_We_'?"

Suddenly he heard the clamouring of footsteps on the metal staircase and turned just in time to see Lucie come through the door, followed by Jo not long after.

"Lucie, what are you doing?" he bellowed, "Jo, get her out of here!"

His attention was drawn back to the Dalek as he heard more noises coming from the darkness. His hearts each skipped a beat as he saw two more Daleks emerging from the shadows, one on either side of the original and all in much the same condition.

"Run, now!" he yelled as he turned and bolted for the door.

"_Exterminate_!"

"_Exterminate_!"

The Doctor felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as a sizzling blast of white-hot energy narrowly missed his head and burned itself into the wall, just by the doorway.

This elicited a short shriek from Lucie, who called, "Leg it!" to Jo, before they both disappeared back down the stairs.

The Doctor made it through the door and hooked a sharp left, just as another blast came flying after him and struck the side of a brick building on the other side of the courtyard.

He went to run down the stairs, but then stopped himself and turned back.

"Doctor, what the bleedin' Hell are you doin'?" yelled Lucie.

The Doctor leaned in and grabbed the handle of the old, rusted metal door and froze for a moment as he saw the three Daleks slowly trundling towards him, screeching their battle cries all the way.

The Doctor frowned in fierce defiance and pulled the door shut, his arms shaking as a blast hit the other side of the door; their discharges were getting weaker.

He pulled out the sonic screwdriver and made some adjustments so that it could be used as a sonic lance. Then, he began tracing the device around the edges of the door, melting the metal and then cooling it, sealing the door shut.

He heard and felt the occasional energy blast strike the door, but they were mostly ineffective now. The Daleks would need to do some serious recharging if they wanted to get back to full capacity. Still, The Doctor didn't want to take any chances.

He finished the job by melting the area around the door handle and then raced back down the stairs.

* * *

Henry felt a wave of relief wash over him as he saw Abe's car pull up at their rendezvous point. Fortunately, he'd managed to use an out of the way pay phone to make the arrangements and had been able to hide in some bushes while he waited, without being discovered.

Grown men caught naked and hiding in the bushes weren't usually treated with much more understanding than those caught swimming naked in a public river.

Abe got out of the car and looked around, fortunately spying Henry's waving arm. He retrieved a towel from the car and rushed other as quickly as possible, throwing it over his shoulders and rushing him to the car.

"So, what happened this time?" asked Abe, equal parts concerned and bemused. It was, after all, a fairly standard routine for them.

"I don't know," said Henry, rubbing the towel through his damp hair. "It was unlike anything I've ever seen. All I know is that I need to get back to Jo – she's in grave danger."

"OK," said Abe," as they entered the flow of traffic, "but first things first, we need to get you some pants."


	6. Chapter 6

"What the Hell are those things?" demanded Jo as The Doctor reached the bottom of the stairs.

"No time to explain, Detective, we need to evacuate."

"Evacuate what?" asked Hanson. "The place is abandoned."

"Not the factory," said The Doctor, "the city."

Hanson choked in disbelief. "Wait, what? You can't be serious. We can't just evacuate New York City! It's New York City!"

"Look," said The Doctor, agitated, "there are at least three Daleks in there, maybe more and as long as that's the case then every single man, woman and child in this city is at risk."

"Doctor, I understand what you're saying," said Jo with more understanding than Hansen, "but it is literally impossible to pull off an evacuation of that size, not in any immediate timeframe, anyway. Now, maybe we could evacuate a few blocks, but we're going to need answers. What exactly are we dealing with?"

"You wouldn't believe me," said The Doctor.

"Try us," responded Jo.

The Doctor looked at Lucie, who shrugged and said, "They need to know. Besides, what've we got to lose?"

The Doctor thought for a moment and then nodded.

"Alright, those creatures up there?" he said, pointing up at the factory. "Those are Daleks – genetically mutated alien beings designed for one purpose: to hate and destroy everything that isn't a Dalek."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," interrupted Hansen, "back the truck up. You said alien?"

"Quick on the uptake, ain't ya Columbo?" quipped Lucie.

"OK," said Jo, shaking her head, "let's just put a pin in the alien thing for now. How do we beat them? What kind of firepower are we dealing with?"

"The Dalek gunstick fires a concentrated beam of energy which can exhibit a number of different properties depending on the setting, but the upshot is that the target is completely scrambled. When fighting organic lifeforms, they tend to aim for the internal organs rather than the outer body."

"Our murder vic," said Jo.

The Doctor nodded.

"But what about..." the words caught in Jo's throat, "what about Henry? He completely vanished."

Hanson looked at Jo in disbelief. "Wait, what?"

"It's true," said Jo, her throat tight, "he vanished right before my eyes."

"Yes, well, that was a new one on me," said The Doctor, "and I promise you that I'll look into it, but for now, we need to prepare an offensive."

"We got S.W.A.T coming in," said Hanson, "they'll have enough firepower to take out dozens of those things."

Jo shook her head. "You didn't see it, Mike, it was like nothing I've ever seen. It seemed like my bullets were melting – I mean, literally melting – before they even hit home."

"Keen eye, Detective," said The Doctor, "not only are the Daleks' casings extremely durable, but they have a low-level force-field that protects them from small projectiles. Though, given the condition of that lot, they'll be struggling to keep the lights on, as it were."

Lucie's head shot up. "Wait a sec, that's the solution, isn't it? These Daleks are low on power, so can't we just wait for 'em to run flat, then run in and smash 'em to bits?"

The Doctor cocked his head a little and exhaled. "Well, it's a sound theory, but we've no way of knowing how many Daleks we're dealing with, nor their condition. We need to perform some reconnaissance. After all, by knowing ourselves and our enemy, we needn't fear a hundred battles."

Jo cocked her head. "_The Art of War_?"

"Oh, so Sun Tzu did use that line," beamed The Doctor. "That cheeky devil, he didn't even pay me any royalties."

Without any further discussion, The Doctor started walking back towards the car, with Lucy following suit.

Hanson made to follow him, but Jo stopped him.

"Mike, I need you to wait for S.W.A.T and keep an eye on things here. See what you can do about organising an evacuation. I'll let you know as soon as I know where we're going."

"You sure?" asked Hanson, casting his eyes towards The Doctor.

"I hope so," she replied.

After a silent moment, Hanson nodded. "Alright, but watch your back out there."

"You too," she said before running off to catch up with The Doctor.

"Where are we going?" asked Jo.

"I need my TARDIS – that blue box that your people confiscated," said The Doctor. "It's the biggest tactical advantage we have."

"Yeah," said Lucy, "but won't the Daleks notice if we show up in the TARDIS, huffin' and wheezin' away. I mean, she's pretty flippin' awesome and all, but she's not exactly stealthy, is she?"

"True," conceded The Doctor, "but she can give as a detailed scan of the factory – show us what exactly we're dealing with."

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver as they approached the car and pointed it in its general direction, causing the vehicle to unlock with a brief beep-beep and a flash of lights.

"Hey!" said Jo.

"Forgive me, Detective, I thought it would be quicker."

Jo gave The Doctor an unsure look as they all slipped into their respective doors – Jo and The Doctor up front and Lucie in the back.

"Just don't go taking liberties," said Jo as she cranked the ignition, "technically, you're still our prisoner. More or less."

The Doctor smiled softly as he clicked his seat-belt into place. "Whatever you say, Detective."

* * *

Abe's car pulled up to the curb just outside of the alleyway. Technically they were double-parked, but these were desperate times.

Henry jumped out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop and ran up the alleyway, his scarf trailing behind him, since he'd been in too much of a rush to bother tying or wrapping it in any meaningful way.

He scrambled to a stop as the uniformed officer at the scene held up a hand.

"Sorry Sir, this is an active crime-scene. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I know it's a crime-scene," groaned Henry, "I'm the medical examiner working on the case – I was here this morning!"

"Can I see some identification?" asked the officer.

Henry frowned in frustration as he reached into his trouser pockets, looking for his wallet. Failing to find it, he reached into his jacket pockets, followed by his waistcoat. Nothing.

"Stupid!" he said, realising that, of course he'd lost it. The only thing that ever seemed to be left behind when he died was his pocket-watch – presumably because it had been with him when he died originally. As such, he never carried much cash on him and he was treated with great disdain by the administration clerk who had to keep reissuing him with new credentials.

"Excuse me?" asked the officer, clearly not amused by Henry's outburst.

"No, not you officer, it's just that I just realised that I left my wallet and my identification at home. But I assure you that it is of the utmost importance that I speak to Detective Martinez."

"Detective Martinez isn't here," said the officer, still very much in doubt of Henry's story.

It was only now that Henry realised that Jo's car was no longer there – how had he failed to notice that?

He let out a sigh of relief, his body relaxing a little.

"Well, might you be able to tell me where she went?"

"Sir, I think it'd be best if you just moved along." The officer was still eyeballing him – sizing him up.

"Henry!"

Henry looked past the officer and saw Detective Hanson running towards him.

"Henry, holy crap!" he beamed. "Jo said that you were-"

"It's a long story," he interjected, hoping that he would be able to avoid awkward questions, at least for the time being. "But Jo-"

Now it was Hanson's turn to interject. "She's fine, everyone's fine. She's headed to the impound lot on 38th & 12th with that Doctor and the pretty blonde. Something about his blue box, I don't know."

"The Police Box?" asked Henry, cocking his head. "Anyway, thank-you Detective." With that, he ran back towards Abe's illegally parked car.

"Don't mention it," muttered Hanson. "I miss the days when he was the weirdest part of my day."

* * *

The tyres crunched on gravel as Jo pulled into the impound lot's car park. She flashed her badge at the guard and after a minute that felt like an eternity to the Doctor, they were allowed through.

"Lot 681B," said Jo as she led the way, following the directions the guard had given her. "It only got here about an hour ago."

"Yeah, well, you'd better hope the TARDIS is OK," said Lucie, "or we'll sue."

"Don't worry Lucie," said the Doctor, "the old girl might have a few miles on the clock, but she's durable. She's stood the test of time – literally."

"Yeah well, all I know is that me Auntie Pat had her Impala impounded once and when she got it back, they'd knocked a wing mirror clean off! Greasy twats didn't give 'er compensation or nothin'."

Jo had no idea what they were talking about and it was only partly due to the accents. She just kept herself focused on finding the appropriate lot.

"678, 679, aha," she said as she saw the big, blue box up ahead. It stood out like a sore thumb among all of the cars, boats and trailers.

Suddenly, the Doctor whizzed past her, his coat tails nearly whipping her in the face. His face was positively beaming – giddy with joy.

"There you are old girl," he said, excitedly. "I hope they treated you well."

Lucie came up beside Jo and gave an exasperated sigh. "Boys and their toys," she said before approaching the box and giving it her own appreciative pat. "Good to see ya again. I was worried for a sec'."

The Doctor fished out a key that was attached to the other end of his watch chain. He unlocked the door and then stepped in – no, he bounded in. Jo half expected to hear a thud as he collided with the back wall.

Jo gave Lucie a confused look, but she just smiled and shrugged before following the Doctor in.

Unsure as to what was going on, Jo took a few more cautious steps towards the box.

"OK Doctor, so what is the plan exactly? Do I need to organise a tow?"

The Doctor's voice responded, but it was distant and reverberated strangely – like he was calling out from inside a cave. "Never mind about that Detective, just come on in."

Jo cocked her head – there was no way all three of them could fit in there comfortably and she didn't think she wanted to try.

"I think I'll pass," she called back.

A minute later Lucie poked her head out and said, "Oi, get ya boots in here pronto – you're letting the heat out." Then she was gone again.

Jo sighed and then walked up to the open doors and stepped inside.

"OK, Doctor, now what…oh…what?"

She just stood there, dumbfounded as she stared into the cavernous expanse before her. It was like some sort of grand European library or cathedral or something – lots of Gothic architecture and high arches. But…that didn't make sense!"

"It's…" she started.

In the middle of the room, there was a dais or console of some sort. The Doctor was skimming around it, fiddling with buttons and levers. Lucie was standing back, helping him occasionally when he couldn't quite reach a button.

"It's bigger…"

"Do you think she'll say it?" asked Lucie nonchalantly.

"Could do," said the Doctor.

"It's bigger…" repeated Jo,

"I don't think she will," said Lucie. "She's too tough and cynical to be really surprised."

The Doctor looked up and smiled. "A Wager?"

"Five quid," said Lucie.

The Doctor reached an arm across the console. "A gentleman's agreement?"

Lucie grasped his hand and shook. "You're on buddy-boy!"

"It's bigger than I expected," Jo finally blurted out.

"Yes!" said Lucie, making a power pose and poking her tongue out at the Doctor.

"Well," he mumbled, "close enough."


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm telling you that I am a medical examiner with the OCME and I am currently assisting Detective Jo Martinez on a murder investigation," said Henry.

"And I'm telling you," said the impound lot's guard, "that until I see some credentials, I'm not letting you in."

Henry was about to say something that he'd probably regret, but thankfully Abe stepped in and pulled him aside.

"Henry, you're not going to get anywhere like this. Why don't we just wait in the car? I mean, she's not going to be in there all day, right? And obviously she's OK. So, let's just relax and take a seat."

Henry gave Abe an exasperated sigh, but he knew he was right. It just wasn't fair when children were more sensible than their parents.

"Listen to the old man," said the guard. "Wait here and you can talk to Detective Martinez when she gets back."

"Old man?" echoed Abe indignantly. "Well, thank you very much, Officer Friendly."

Henry couldn't do it. Sense or nonsense, he had to make sure that Jo was alright.

"Sorry Abe," he said, before charging past the guard and into the lot.

"Hey, wait! Get back here!" bellowed the guard before chasing after him.

* * *

Jo walked around the cavernous console room very slowly, her body tight and tense with her arms flat to her sides and her hands splayed out. It looked like she was barely keeping it together.

"That's a library," she said in disbelief as she looked at a set of mahogany bookcases.

"Nah, that's just the Doc's light readin'," said Lucie coolly. "The main library's further in."

Jo spun her head around, her eyes threatening to burst from their sockets. "Further in? You mean there's _more_ of this?"

"Oh, of course," said the Doctor as he stood over the console, doing Time Lord knows what. "This is just the primary console room. The interior dimensions of the TARDIS are infinite – or near enough." He looked up at her. "So no wondering off, understood? Even I've been known to get turned around occasionally. I think the old girl likes to play games with me sometimes."

"I'm sorry," said Jo, clearly trying and failing to keep up with everything, "the…TARDIS? Old girl…? What…?"

"Ooh, ooh, can I take this one?" said Lucie, raising her hand in the air excitedly.

"Be my guest," said the Doctor distractedly, his attention returned to the console.

Lucie faked clearing her throat, puffed out her chest proudly and said, "TARDIS: Time and Relative Dimension in Space. This is your basic Type 40, MK III TT capsule. Oh and he calls it old girl because, like most blokes, he's got an unhealthy relationship with his car."

"Oi! Settle down," said the Doctor indignantly. "But otherwise, yes, that's about right."

The explanation did little to help Jo acclimatise and she continued to stare around the room with her mouth agape. It was only now that she really looked up, taking in the cavernous expanse above her. Suddenly there was a screeching sound accompanied by rapid motion and the flapping of wings.

"What the hell was that!" exclaimed Jo, instinctively reaching for her gun.

"Just some fledershrews, Detective," said the Doctor without looking up. "And I'd appreciate it if you could keep your weapon holstered while in the TARIDIS, if you could be so kind."

"Flay…flay-der-what?"

"Fledershrews," said Lucie. "Funky space bats the Doctor lets live in the rafters. Mind you," she said, leaning in, "just between you and me, I think he's got some bats in the belfry too, if you know what I'm saying?" she chuckled.

"No," said Jo, "not…really."

"Oh bother," said the Doctor, straightening himself after being hunched over the scanner screen.

"Oh no," Lucie sighed, "what's the problem now? You know, besides the bleedin' Daleks."

"Nothing too dire," said the Doctor. "It's just that I was hoping I could perform a long-range scan from here, to determine just how many Daleks are in the city and whether or not they're contained to that one factory. Problem is that the TARDIS' scanners are being affected by some sort of temporal disturbance that's blanketing all of New York."

"What, like the Daleks are cloaking themselves?" said Lucie.

"No, no, this isn't the Daleks. The source of the disturbance is in the 1930s and it looks like the result of multiple paradoxes overlaying one another. It's been tidied up a bit, but it's still there. Anyway, that's a problem for another time."

"So, what about the here and now then?" asked Lucie.

"Well, it means we're going to have to get closer," he said as he began pushing buttons on the console.

This was something Jo could latch onto, something that she could understand and help with. Having a task that she could understand helped to ground her again.

"Right," she said, still a little shaken, "I'll talk to someone about getting us a tow back to the factory."

Lucie and the Doctor shared a look and chuckled with one another.

"What?" said Jo, not getting the joke. "What's so funny?"

"Just hold on Detective," said the Doctor as he pushed down on a lever.

Suddenly the floor began to shake, causing Jo to jump. A strange grating, wheezing sound filled the air, as if a rend was being torn open in the very fabric of reality.

"What's going on?" she said, sounding a little panicked.

"Don't worry," said Lucie as the time rotor rose and fell behind here, "we'll be there in no time at all. Gridlock's a non-issue in this thing."

"Wait," said Jo, a stark realisation suddenly hitting her, "we're moving?"

"Got it in one, Cagney," said Lucie.

It was then that Jo remembered what Lucie had said a moment ago.

"Time and Relative Dimension in Space," she muttered. "This thing's a space ship!"

"Well," said the Doctor as he walked around the console, adjusting various settings, "time _and_ space ship if you want to be pedantic."

"And let's face it, you always do," said Lucie.

"Cheeky," retorted the Doctor with a smile. "Unfortunately though, the TARDIS has its quirks and it's always had a bit more difficulty with short trips than long-distance; more of a marathon runner than a sprinter. She can fly the length and breadth of the universe and into dimensions unknown," he began to grunt as he leaned into the console, gripping the controls as if he were trying to physically steer the ship, "but cutting across town? That's a whole…other…issue…altogether."

The ship rocked suddenly, sending Lucie and Jo to the floor, while the Doctor steadied himself against the console.

"Flippin' heck!" said Lucie, rubbing her behind. "You might want to install some safety rails one day, you know."

"I'll take it under consideration," he said as he pulled one final lever and the TARDIS wheezed one more time, before coming to a complete stop. "Well, that wasn't so bad, wouldn't you say detective?"

Jo just sat there, sprawled on the ground, mouth open.

Lucie crouched down before her and offered her hand. "Yeah, you're one of us now. Welcome to the time and space travellers' club. Promise it's not always this rocky. Sometimes it's worse," she chuckled.

Jo shook her head. "You're both mad…"

* * *

"Detective Martinez!" Henry kept calling for Jo as he zigged and zagged through the aisles of confiscated vehicles and property. Without knowing the lot number he was looking for, it was like looking for the metaphorical needle.

Suddenly, he heard an odd sound coming from about two rows over.

"Detective?" he called.

He followed the source of the sound and found himself facing a vacant lot, just as the last notes of the strange grinding sound died away. Although, he could have sworn that as he approached, there was the faintest hint of blue in the air.

"Hey you, get back here!"

He turned to see the security guard jogging after him, gravel spraying out under his hurried footsteps.

Feeling confused and defeated – something he wasn't used to – he turned around with a sigh and accompanied the guard back to the yard's office.

* * *

Detective Mike Hanson rubbed his face in frustration. "Look, I don't know what else to tell you. When I say the nature of the threat is unknown…I mean it's unknown."

He held the phone away from his head for a moment and shook his head. It felt like he was going round in circles, like one of those funky snakes that eats its own tail.

"Look," he said, holding the phone to his ear again, "I don't know what it is we're dealing with exactly, but if I say we need S.W.A.T., we need S.W.A.T.!"

Suddenly he noticed a weird sound coming from overhead. He looked up without really thinking and nearly dropped his phone when he saw where the noise was coming from.

There was some sort of shape fading in and out above the factory, groaning and wheezing as it went. It was blue and rectangular and with every pulse it became more solid. Finally the sound died off and it settled in place and he couldn't believe it – it was that weird blue phone booth from before. He expected it to fall out of the sky, but it just hovered there, spinning slowly on its axis.

He stood there with his mouth opened wide, trying to speak but unable to find the words.

"Hanson? Hanson, you there?"

He suddenly remembered the phone in his hand.

"Just get me S.W.A.T. here stat," he said into the phone absently, "before things get any weirder."

He hung up the phone without another word and stowed it in his pocket, all the while never once taking his eyes off of the impossible flying box.

"I should have stayed in the band," he said. "Sex, drugs and rock n' roll made a lot more sense than this."

* * *

"Ah, much better," said the Doctor, looking rather pleased with himself. He hovered over the scanner, tweaking some dials. "The interference is still preventing a city-wide sweep, but I should be able to get a decent view of the factory from over here."

Jo took a few cautious steps towards the console and gawked up at the high, metallic arches that caged in the central console. They were like spider legs made from scaffolding.

"So…if this is a spaceship," she said, sounding as though she couldn't believe the words she was saying, "you two are, what, aliens?"

"Well, he is," said Lucie, "which explains the whole Lord Byron thing he's got goin' on, but not me. Born and bred in Blackpool, I was. Though, I s'pose that makes me an illegal alien to you, eh? You don't really need passports or green cards when you're travelling in the TARDIS."

Jo's eyes and mouth were still wide open, but the initial shock was wearing off. Now she was adjusting to the situation the best way she knew how: Gathering facts, building a case file. The more she knew, the easier it would be to process and understand what was going on. Unless, of course, she had actually gone crazy.

"So, what, are you a Martian or something? Is that just, like a human suit that you wear? You didn't…steal someone's body, did you?"

The Doctor looked up from the scanner and gave a crooked smile. "Rest assured, Detective, this body is my own – I've had it for a century or two now. And no, I'm not a Martian. They're a big, reptilian warrior race decked out in cyber-enhanced armour – I actually used to travel with one. No, my people are called Time Lords – and yes, they're every bit as pompous as the name implies. Aha," he said, his attention turned back to the scanner, "do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"Well, just for a change of pace, why don't we go for some good news first?" asked Lucie, as she peered over his shoulder at the screen. It was pointless of course, all of those crazy circles and symbols were just gibberish to her.

"Well, the good news is that I'm only reading four Dalek life-signs," he said, "one of them very faint – I'd say it's on death's door."

"Best news I've heard all day," said Lucie. "So come on then," she sighed, "spill it, what's the bad news?"

The Doctor looked at her and shrugged. "Four Daleks are still more than enough to wipe out this entire city. Even if you wanted to be optimistic and call it three and a half, they're still Daleks."

"Let me get this straight," said Lucie, "the good news is there's only four Daleks and the bad news is…there's only four bleedin' Daleks. What was the point of the good news/bad news thing then?"

"Well, I was trying to be optimistic," said the Doctor.

"Wait," said Jo, stepping closer to the two of them, "I get that these…Dar-lick things are lethal – I saw what they did to…" Henry's name caught in her throat as a big lump that she just couldn't bear to speak. Not yet. "But surely four of these things would be no match for a well-coordinated assault. I mean, Hanson's getting S.W.A.T. mustered as we speak; give me an hour and I could have the National Guard here too. Four of those things aren't going to be a match for the army, especially if one of them is out of commission."

The Doctor's mouth grew tight, like a parent unsure whether to ruin their child's innocent beliefs.

"It's a nice thought, Detective, but I'm afraid that you don't know the Daleks like I do."

"Well, explain it to me then. What are they exactly?"

"Hate-filled killing machines," said Lucie.

"Well, there's a little more to it than that, but essentially yes. They're from another world, Skaro, and were once very much like you or I, until one of their deranged scientists began experimenting on his own people. He mutated them into corrupted, vile little blobs fuelled by hatred and xenophobia and then dropped them in a nigh-on indestructible casing, equipped with an advanced weapons system designed to be lethal to as many forms of life as possible. A Dalek is ruthless and attacks with cold, logical efficiency. Worst of all, they view themselves as the supreme beings of the universe. Anything that isn't a Dalek is seen as wrong and therefore must be exterminated.

Now, I'll admit that given the state they're in, I am cautiously optimistic. But we must never make the mistake of underestimating the Daleks, their greatest weapon isn't their gunstick, it's their cunning. What's more, this particular batch seem to be from my personal future. I can only imagine what kind of upgrades and improvements they may come equipped with. That's why we need to ascertain what exactly their plan is. They aren't here by design; they're lost and damaged, but make no mistake, that makes them all the more dangerous."

Jo could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. He had a long history with these things. He had seen things; done things. There was a hatred bubbling just beneath the surface of his calm veneer.

"So, what do we do? Can you bomb them from up here, or, I don't know…zap them? Jo shrugged.

"Always the first thought with you humans, isn't it?"

"Oi, steady on," said Lucie.

"But no Detective, I can't 'zap' them, the TARDIS doesn't have any weapons, that's not how I do things. No, I'm going to go down there and see if I can figure out what exactly it is that they're doing. We need to know whether they killed that homeless man simply because he stumbled upon their hiding spot, or whether there's a bigger plan at play."

"Hold on," said Lucie, gobsmacked, "you're going to go down there and, what, just ask them what they're up to?"

"If I need to, yes. I'm hoping that I'll be able to move around without detection, but failing that, sometimes the direct approach is the best one. Who knows, in their weakened condition, I might even be able to strike a deal with them; relocate them to some uninhabited world where they can live out their final days away from innocent beings."

"Always the optimist, ain't ya?" said Lucie.

He smiled, "I have to be."

Lucie shook her head. "That's what I love about you, but it can be bloody frustratin' sometimes."

The Doctor grinned then began moving around the console once more.

"I've found a rear entrance that's out of the way from where the Daleks are congregated, I'll set the TARDIS down a block away and go in by foot – it's imperative that the Daleks don't get their plungers on the TARDIS. Jo, you get Lucie to safety behind the police line and get the S.W.A.T. to secure a two mile perimeter, but don't, under any circumstances, let them advance on the factory unless you hear from me, or the Daleks make a move. Otherwise they'll be walking into a bloodbath."

"Hey, you think I'm just going to sit this one out?" chided Lucie. "And don't give me the macho, chauvist 'it's too dangerous' spiel, I faced off against those bozos on day one, remember? So I'll be havin' none of that."

The Doctor smiled. "Oh Lucie, I was thinking nothing of the sort. But I need you to make sure that the Detective listens to me and doesn't let the S.W.A.T. do something stupid. No offense, Detective."

"None…taken?" said Jo, unsure how to feel.

"Hmm…alright," said Lucie. "I know what you're doing, but I'll let you have this one because I know how you get."

The Doctor smiled and plunged a lever down as the ship groaned and wheezed around them…


	8. Chapter 8

Henry looked irritated and confused as the guard marched him out of the impound lot. Abe was just glad it didn't look like the guard had roughed him up any.

"Be thankful I don't have you charged for trespassing," said the guard. "Do me a favour gramps, get him outta hear and keep him out of trouble."

"Gramps?" Abe scoffed. "Come on Henry, I think we've outstayed our welcome here.

Henry chewed his lip and looked like he was going to argue with the guard, but Abe gripped his arm rather firmly and muttered, "You're not going to help anyone like this."

Henry was about to rebut, but his better judgement kicked in.

"You don't understand Abe, she was here and now she's not. How can she have just vanished into thin air?"

Abe looked doubtful. "Henry, come on, this lot's pretty big and you weren't in there for all that long. She's probably just somewhere way up back, is all. If we hang around here long enough she'll come out and problem solved."

"You don't understand Abe, I…heard something."

"You heard something? Like what?"

"I…don't know, it was coming from a way off in the distance. But I'm sure that I'd heard it somewhere before."

Abe gave him a questioning look and Henry couldn't blame him. He was well aware how he was sounding, but over his long lifetime he'd garnered a knack…a sense for knowing when things weren't right. It wasn't easy to explain, especially not to an ordinary person. Only someone who'd lived as long as he had could understand just how one's perception and instinct were altered over centuries of experience.

Unfortunately though, he'd only ever encountered one other immortal – a madman named Adam. Even if he weren't currently in a coma, he wasn't exactly the sort of fellow he could go to for support and understanding. Maybe one day he'd meet a nicer sort of immortal.

"Listen, Henry, I know it goes against your Georgian code of honour or whatever, but why don't you just put yourself – and me – out of your misery and use this?" Abe fished a smart phone out of his pocket and held it out for his adoptive father to take.

Henry cringed a little at the sight of the hand-held device. He'd learned to adapt to a lot of things over the past two centuries, but cellular telephones were just one of those things that he couldn't quite bring himself to grow accustomed to just yet.

"Oh, quick baulking and just call her," said Abe as he pressed the phone into Henry's hand, "at least then maybe we can stop running around the city chasing our tails."

Henry knew he had a point, so he decided to relent. Just one question remained.

"Abraham…how do you unlock this thing exactly?"

Abe shook his head, "Oh, brother."

* * *

Jo's eyes darted this way and that as that strange grating noise rang out all around her, all the while she held her arms out from her body to steady herself.

Suddenly, even over the deafening groaning sound, she heard the distinctive sound of her phone's ringtone as it vibrated away in her jacket pocket.

"Martinez," she said, trying not to sound too bewildered as she answered the phone.

"Jo!" came the voice on the other end. "Jo, are you alright? Where are you?"

She gasped, recognising the voice immediately.

"Henry! My God, Henry, how…I saw you…how can this be happening?"

The Doctor and Lucie's ears pricked up and they both exchanged uncertain glances from across the console.

Jo put her hand to her mouth as she simultaneously grinned and shed a tear. Suddenly a thought occurred to her that caused her smile to falter. If this thing really was a time machine, could it be that she was actually talking to a past version of Henry?

"Henry, is this really you?" she asked hopefully, her heart racing in her chest.

"Jo, it's me, I'm fine. I know what you saw must have been horrifying, but that thing didn't kill me."

"But then, what…"

"Listen Jo, I'll explain later, but right now I need to know where you are and whether you're alright."

She looked around at the cavernous, gothic space and time machine that defied all logic and reason.

"I-I'm…I'm heading back to the factory," she said, not untruthfully, "the Doctor and Lucie are with me."

"What? Jo, no, what are you thinking? You can't go back there."

"It's fine," she said, "this Doctor guy, he seems to know about these…things, we're going to do some recon and see if we can formulate a plan of attack. Hanson's called in SWAT, but they won't be any good if they don't know what they're walking into."

Henry's voice grew severe. "Jo, please, promise me you won't go into that factory. That thing…I don't want you anywhere near it."

Jo's brow furrowed, a tinge of anger striking in her gut.

"I'm sorry Henry, but that's not your call to make."

"Detective, please listen-"

"No, Henry, you listen. You're not my superior, you're my medical examiner and, yeah, OK, you're my friend. We've done a lot of good together and I trust you more than anyone I know. And yeah, today is weird as Hell and if I'm being honest, I have no idea what's going on. Henry, I am so out of my depth it's not funny. But as long as I've got this badge, I'm going to do my job, and that means maintaining law and order, aliens or no aliens."

"Excuse me? Did you just say aliens?"

The ship thudded as it came to a landing, the groaning and wheezing dying away.

"Look, Henry, I've got to go. Just head back to your office and we'll debrief when this is all over."

She hung up the phone before he could object and held it to her chest, her eyes closed as she took a deep breath.

She opened them to see the Doctor and Lucie staring at her rather awkwardly.

"Oh. Right. You heard that, huh?"

* * *

"Jo? Jo? Blast! Why does she have to be so stubborn?" Henry thrust the phone back at Abe and began strutting towards the car at a hurried pace.

"Alright, where are we going now? Back to that factory, I take it?" Abe sounded like an exasperated parent who knew exactly when their child was in too much of a mood to be reasoned with. Rather ironic given the circumstances.

Henry cast a look at him as he reached for the door handle, only to realise that it was locked. He sighed. "No, of course not Abraham. _We're _not going back to the factory, _you'll _drop me off and head back to the shop. I've waylaid you enough for the day. Besides, it's bad enough that Jo is risking her life with that thing, I'm not going to put you in harm's way too."

"Hmm, well, I suppose this is the point where I'm supposed to boldly declare that I'm not going to let you do this alone, and indignantly declare that I may be getting on in years, but I can still look after myself. But truth be told, it's a beautiful Sunday, I've got a business to run and a very lovely lady who's waiting to have lunch with me. Besides, you're immortal and I'm not, you'll be fine."

His eyes twinkled and he gave Henry a sly grin as he unlocked the car.

Henry was going to say something, but opted instead to simply smile in return as he climbed into the passenger seat.

* * *

The TARDIS door creaked as the Doctor stepped out into the cool, early afternoon sun. They were behind an old warehouse that, if the Doctor had managed to stick the landing, should have been directly behind the factory.

"Alright, coast is clear," he called back into the TARDIS.

Lucie and Jo followed him out before he turned around and locked the doors behind them.

Jo still looked tense, taking baby steps – slowly and deliberately – as she looked around with wide eyes and a slightly gaping mouth. She looked like she was expecting the world to suddenly fall away from beneath her feet. In a way, she seemed even more distressed than when she'd first entered the TARDIS.

"We…we really did it," she said absently. "We…we moved."

"Noticed that, did ya?" said Lucie with a wink.

The Doctor gave her a sly smile. "I wish all of my travelling companions were as easily impressed as you. Maybe you can come with us once all this is over. I'd love to see your reaction to the Hallowed Halls of Costa-Nebraxus." With that, he was off and heading for the street corner.

Lucie gave Jo a light rap on the arm with her knuckles, bringing her attention back down to Earth. "Come on, can't hang around here lolly-gagging all day."

Jo looked at the surprisingly well-adjusted teenager and shook her head. "Right, right. Come on, let's go."

They caught up with the Doctor and the three of them kept pace together until they reached the next block over, the rear side of the factory in full view.

"Alright, this is where I leave you," said the Doctor. "If I'm not back in an hour, contact UNIT, the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. Tell them I sent you and request an air strike on the factory. I'm not sure who the leadership are at this point in time, but my name should still carry weight with them. Oh and give them my authorisation code: 211-2112-1968."

"OK, got it," said Jo as she made a mental note of the number.

"Excellent. Well then ladies," he said with a tight smile, "good luck." Then without another word he turned on his heels and headed for the rusted chain-link fence that surrounded the rear of the factory.

"Do you think he'll be OK?" asked Jo.

"Yeah, don't go worrying about the Doctor," said Lucie, "he can handle a couple of busted up old Daleks."

Jo knew that Lucie was trying to reassure her, but she couldn't hide the notes of fear and uncertainty that clipped at her voice.

"Right, well, come on," said Jo, before they both headed back to the police line at the front of the factory.

* * *

The Doctor walked along the length of the fence, looking for any gaps he might be able to take advantage of.

"Right, then," he said once he'd accepted that no such gap existed, "I suppose I'll have to make my own entrance."

He retrieved his sonic screwdriver from his pocket, adjusted the setting and then set about tracing a line from about head height, down to the ground. As the screwdriver whirred away over the metal links, they melted and snapped, causing the detached section of fence to peel inwards. Once he reached the ground, he stood back up and traced a horizontal line from the top of the vertical one, until he was satisfied that it would be wide enough to slip through.

Slipping the screwdriver back in his pocket, he nodded approvingly at his work, before rolling the loose flap of fence to the side and ducking through.

Much like the other side of the factory, there was a set of stairs that lead up to a service door. The Doctor crouched low as he crossed over to the stairs, although he had no idea what good crouching would do him if the Daleks spotted him. He supposed that some human habits must have been rubbing off on him.

He took the stairs slowly and cautiously, hoping not to cause too much of a clamour. When he was about two steps from the top, he realised that a flock of pigeons had made the landing home. He paused for a moment, wondering whether he could get the birds to leave quietly. Realising, however, that this was extremely unlikely, he just shrugged and continued on, hoping that the Daleks wouldn't pay any attention to the sound of cooing pigeons in a city like New York.

The birds flapped away in a flurry, as expected, as he reached the door and unlocked it with a whirr of the screwdriver. Then, taking a deep breath, he opened it and went inside.


	9. Chapter 9

Jo came to a sudden stop as she rounded the corner, causing Lucie to nearly crash into her.

"Oi, try some brake lights, NYPD Blue," she quipped. Then she realised why Jo had stopped so suddenly. "Woah, blimey! You blokes don't mess around, do ya?"

It seemed that both ends of the street had been blocked off with barricades and police cars, with uniformed officers redirecting traffic. The street itself was a mess of standard police cars, SWAT vehicles and other tactical vehicles that looked vaguely militaristic. Jo couldn't identify those ones, but they seemed to have some sort of insignia resembling a globe with a pair of wings.

Jo flashed her badge at the young officer at the barricade and both she and Lucy were allowed to step through. There were personnel crawling all over the place, some in uniforms, others in tactical gear. Thankfully, this meant that someone in plain clothes would be sure to stand out.

"Hanson!" Jo called out after she spotted her partner in his cheap off-the-rack suit. He looked frustrated, standing back with his hands on his hips.

It took him a moment, but eventually he saw Jo and Lucie jogging towards him and met them halfway with a look of relief on his face.

"Oh, thank God you're here," he said, "things have been getting pretty crazy round here. First, I swear to God almighty above, that I saw that freakin' blue phone booth from before just floating over my head."

Jo cringed as she shot a sidelong glance at Lucie, who was struggling not to laugh.

"Then, 'bout, I don't know, two minutes ago SWAT showed up, and thirty seconds later all these army bozos followed suit."

Jo looked confused. "Who called them in?"

Hanson shrugged. "Got me. But they don't look like regular army, or National Guard for that matter. I'm thinking they must be some kind of special ops or something. But nobody's telling me a damn thing. They say they're taking control of the situation and that the NYPD will only be needed in an advisory and supportive capacity." He scoffed. "Typical government types, think us boys in blue aren't good for anything besides directing traffic. So now I've got SWAT just standing around with their hands up their asses, waiting to see how the soldier-boys are going to play this."

Jo looked around at the soldiers, Hanson was right, their uniforms didn't look like anything she recognised. Most of the enlisted man were wearing fairly typical black tactical gear, but the officers, while clearly being of a basic western military design, were slightly different to any U.S. uniform Jo had seen, most notably with the presence of red berets. Plus, they all wore that same winged globe insignia.

"Any idea who they are?" Jo asked.

Hanson scratched the back of his head. "Bah, they had some weird name I'd never heard before; one of those acronym kind of things. Sounded like they might be with the U.N. UNIT? Something like that?"

Jo's eyes flashed with realisation, but Lucie beat her to the punch.

"UNIT?" Lucie gasped. "Those are the Doctor's old army buddies or whatever. They're the ones he told us to call if things went sour."

"Well," said Jo, "it looks like they beat us to the punch."

"The Doctor?" Hanson questioned. "Wait, where is that nutjob anyway? How come the blonde's with you and he's not?"

Before Jo could respond, an indignant Lucie stepped up to Hanson and jabbed a finger at his chest.

"Oi, Starskey, the blonde's got a name. And if you talk about me or the Doctor like that again, I'll kick you in the nutjobs."

Hanson looked a little bewildered and took a step back, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Jeez, OK, sorry," he said.

Suddenly there was commotion as some of the soldiers began unloading heavy artillery the likes of which Jo had never seen before in her life. She noticed that the CO seemed to be a tall, skinny guy in his early fifties - or at least it looked like he was the one dishing out all the orders.

"Look, I'm going to go and see if I can sort all this out. Mike, stay here to liaise with SWAT, Lucie you come with me, we're going to need to fill them in on what's going on and you're the most qualified to do that."

"'Bout time someone noticed that," Lucie said pointedly at Hanson, before walking in the direction of the commanding officer.

Jo gave Hanson a sympathetic look and gripped his shoulder. "Sorry Mike, I promise when all this is over I'll catch you up to speed over a beer. I'm sure as Hell going to need one." With that she was gone and off to catch up with Lucie before the mouthy girl got herself in trouble.

Hanson sighed. "Yeah, well, you're buying!" He called out to her.

When they approached the CO he was standing over a foldout table, looking over what Jo presumed to be plans of the factory. He was flanked by two soldiers in tactical gear – an Asian man and Caucasian woman.

"See if we can set up sonic disruptors here and here," the CO said, pointing to locations on the map, "and tell Ndiaye to be ready with those charges."

"Yes, Sir," the soldiers both saluted before being dismissed.

Now that they were closer, Jo could tell by the stars on his uniform that the CO was a Major General. That was a pretty heavy hitter to have in the midst of a situation like this. He also looked tired and pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache.

"I'm sorry Sir, but we need to talk to you," said Jo as she and Lucie approached the table.

"What is it?" The general said absently, before looking up and squinting in confusion. "Hold on, who are you? How did you two get in here?"

"Detective Martinez, NYPD," Jo said as she flashed her badge. "My partner and I uncovered the situation here during the course of a murder investigation. We're the ones who put the call in to SWAT."

"Oh, right, yes," the general said dismissively, before turning his attention back to another document on the table. "Well, thank you, but we've got everything under control now. You and your partner can help with the evacuation if you'd like, other than that would you mind just keeping clear until we can debrief you?"

"Actually Sir, we have some information that-"

"I appreciate that you want to help, Detective," said the general, looking up from his documents, "but I assure you that you've done more than enough. This is a little out of your league, so just feel free to leave this to people who have experience with this sort of thing. Hmm?"

Jo was about to retort, but she was interrupted by Lucie who strode towards the general, pointing at him.

"Listen, Major Toms, you wanna talk about experience? Have any of these blokes ever seen a Dalek before? Have _you_? Because I have! So, how's about you can it with the condescension and actually listen to what we have to say? Because my best mate's in there with those things and I don't have time to waste trying to explain meself to a bunch a soldier boys."

Jo's mouth went slack, she was sure they were going to get themselves detained by military police. But surprisingly, the general just regarded Lucie with curiosity.

"Daleks? How do you know that name? Who are you exactly?"

"Me? Pfft! I'm Lucie bleedin' Miller, mate. I travel with a bloke called the Doctor and I've seen more Daleks than you've had hot dinners. That's probably not far from the truth actually," she said, eying his slender frame, "aren't you general types meant to be all strong and broad-shouldered? What, they cuttin' back your rations?"

Jo gave Lucie a warning smack on the arm, followed by a look that screamed, 'shut up before you get us thrown in a military detainment camp!'

It hardly seemed to faze the general though. "You're a companion of the Doctor?" he said, a note of hope in his voice.

"Thick as thieves, we are," she said, proudly.

"Jenkins!" called the general, without taking his eyes off of them.

A young, lean male soldier who couldn't have been more than a few years out of high school approached and snapped to attention.

"Sir!"

"Give me the quick reference file on the Doctor and his companions."

"Yes, Sir!" the soldier half-yelled, before fishing a tablet computer out from a pocket in his vest. His gloved fingers danced around the screen for a moment before handing the device to the general.

"Thank you, that'll be all, Private. Dismissed."

Pvt. Jenkins offered another firm salute before turning on his heels and leaving.

Lucie and Jo shared impatient looks as the general flicked through files on the tablet for several moments before pausing and looking up at Lucie.

"Lucie Miller," he said, "companion to at least one incarnation of the Doctor. Born: 31st July, 1988. Original point of contact with the Doctor: 2006. Current location and status: unknown."

"Well, I'm right in front of you," Lucie mumbled, trying not to think about what Jo had said earlier about her having not being seen since 2006.

"Hmm, picture looks to be a match," he said, "although the hair's a different colour." He showed them the picture on the tablet, which featured a candid photo of Lucie with brown hair rather than the usual blonde.

"Well…yeah, I've been known to throw a rinse in once in a while. So sue me."

Ignoring the remark, he offered his hand. "Major-General Layne, pleasure to meet you Miss Miller. And you too, of course, Detective," he hastened to add.

"I wish it were under better circumstances, but yeah, likewise," said Jo.

"Can you identify any of these men as the Doctor?" asked the general as he handed the tablet to Lucie.

Jo looked over Lucie's shoulder as she scrolled through a dozen or so pictures of vastly different men. She'd held her fair share of line-ups before, but there was no way any of those people could be mistaken for the same man.

They varied in age, height, build, nearly every significant characteristic, save for ethnicity, with the majority of them being caucasion. They also all seemed to have a flair for eccentric clothes.

"So, what, you're telling me these blokes are all meant to be the Doctor?" asked Lucie as she scrolled by a curly-haired man with bulging eyes, a toothy smile and a ridiculous scarf.

"As far as we're aware, yes," said the General. "Are you familiar with the concept of regeneration?"

"I think the Doctor might have mentioned it once," she said. "He can change his body when he's about to die, that's the basic gist, yeah?" She smiled and shook her head, "He failed to mention just how ridiculous some of those other bodies have been though." She beamed and took a moment to stare at a few of the photos. "Ooh-hoo, I am going to rib him so hard over the question marks and the technicolour dreamcoat! I mean, this is like looking through a year book, but all the embarrassing fashion choices belong to one person." She laughed, then kept scrolling.

"Great, so time-travel, aliens…now he's a shapeshifter too," said Jo, "I'll add that to today's list of things I just have to accept."

"Aha, here we go!" exclaimed Lucie. "Blimey, he looks a bit older and he's ditched the poncy curls and cravat, but that's definitely him."

Jo examined the photo, she could definitely tell it was the same man, but although he didn't look a great deal older, the signs of age were definitely there. Her first reaction was to think it impossible for someone to look older in a photo than they currently looked (unless it had been Photoshopped), but then she remembered the time travel thing, so she supposed that checked out.

Lucie turned the tablet to show the general the photo in question. He took the tablet back from her, examined it for a moment and nodded. Then he spent a moment scrolling through some text that must have accompanied the photo, before returning the tablet to Pvt. Jenkins.

"Satisfied?" asked Lucie.

"Hmm, yes, it seems to check out. That Doctor hasn't had a great deal of involvement with UNIT, but records seem to indicate that he should be reliable."

Lucie raised an eyebrow. "You sayin' there are versions of the Doctor who aren't reliable?"

"You'd be surprised," he said. "The Doctor is considered UNIT's oldest and greatest ally, but his goals and ideals don't always align with our own. And some of his selves don't play well with a team, if you know what I mean. Anyway, none of that matters, now that we know the Doctor's here, we need to try and adjust our course of action accordingly. Tell me, what is his plan exactly?"

Lucie bit her lip and glanced at Jo. "Ah, between you and me, I don't think he's really got a plan. He sort of just snuck into the factory through the back way and told us to keep anyone from doing anything stupid. We were supposed to call you lot if he wasn't back in an hour, tell you to organise an air strike, but as you can see…" she left the sentence hanging, waving a hand at Gen. Layne.

Gen. Layne let out a sigh and shook his head. "He's one of those ones, eh? Makes it up as he goes along? Why couldn't we have got the one in the Panama hat, he's manipulative, but he's also a master strategist."

"So what are you thinking, General?" asked Jo. "How are we going to play this?"

"_We_ aren't going to do anything. You will be escorted outside of the evacuation zone, while we form a siege formation. We'll give the Doctor his hour, but if no contact can be made by that time, we shall have no choice but to cauterise the area. The Doctor has a protection factor of triple Alpha-1, but the Daleks are a threat level Omega-12, meaning that they cannot be allowed to be let loose."

Lucie crossed her arms. "I don't understand your army gibberish, but I'm not sure I like the sound of that. 'Cauterise the area'? Sounds a lot like you're ready to throw the Doctor under the bus if things go south. Please don't tell me you'd seriously blow the place up with the Doctor still inside? Because I'll tell you now mate, there's no way in Hell I'm gonna let that happen."

The General was about to retort, but a soldier interrupted them.

"Sir, sorry, but there's a man at the police line trying to get in," said the soldier, another young man no more than a few years older than Lucie. "He says he's a medical examiner and he's demanding to speak to a Detective Martinez, Sir."

Jo's head shot up. "Henry? Henry Morgan?"

"Umm, yes ma'am, I think so," said the soldier.

"General, I can vouch for him and I'm sure he could be a huge help to you right now.

"Detective, I really don't see what use a medical examiner is going to be-"

"He's more than a medical examiner," she interrupted, "trust me, Henry sees things that nobody else does. If there's anybody else around here who can think like the Doctor, believe me, it's him."

Gen. Layne sighed and said, fine, I suppose we can use all the help we can get right now. Let me talk to him.

"Thanks, General, you won't regret it," said Jo, as she led him back towards the police line.

What they failed to notice, however, was that Lucie stayed behind. She bit her lip, watching as they disappeared down the alleyway. She looked around at the soldiers and SWAT guys all rushing about, looking over plans, talking into radios, setting up equipment and altogether looking like a bunch of headless chickens. She saw Hanson on the phone, looking stressed out as he paced in circles.

_Sod it_, she thought. She wasn't going to stick around outside feeling useless while the Doctor was in there alone with a bunch of Daleks, racing against the clock.

She meandered slowly towards the factory, trying not to draw attention to herself. She knew they'd probably have snipers with guns trained on the door, so she slipped down the side of the building, looking for a more discrete way to enter.

One thing was for sure, she was never going to forget her first trip to New York.

* * *

The Doctor ran a finger along a railing and examined the dust on his finger. "You know, getting a house keeper in once a week would do wonders for this place."

He was walking along a catwalk that overlooked the factory floor. He'd been sneaking his way around for about twenty minutes now and he'd still not seen hide nor hair of the Daleks. He knew that was technically a good sign, but it also left him feeling uneasy.

"Oh, hello you," he said suddenly, standing up from his crouch to get a better look over the railing. "What have we here?"

Down below was a large, disc-shaped – or rather, saucer-shaped – ship. It was badly damaged, completely falling apart, with great holes blasted in its hull. Despite its condition though, its design was unmistakably Dalek.

"Well now, that wasn't expected," he muttered, as he looked up at the ceiling, which was still very clearly intact. "How did you…ah, of course. Fell from a time war, did you? Makes sense," he said, noting the destruction around the ship; the way machinery had been flattened or blasted away. It was as if the ship had suddenly materialised right there inside the factory and violently displaced all that was around it.

"Falling always looks different when it's multidimensional, doesn't it?" he mused.

Suddenly he heard a creak and felt something shift and before he could register what was happening, the rusted out railing he was leaning against gave way and he found himself hurtling to the floor below. It all happened so quickly, he scarcely had time to make a sound before he hit the floor with a thud and found himself sprawled on the ground, covered with dust and groaning as he nursed his arm.

"Well," he groaned, "could have been worse. I'd hate to have been the one who got taken out by a rusty railing – what a rubbish way to go. I would have regenerated again immediately, after I died of embarrassment."

He slowly clambered to his feet, taking note of all the aches and pains as he went. It didn't seem like anything was broken, but he was definitely going to have a few bruises in the morning.

"_Halt!_"

He looked up in surprise and then his shoulders slumped. "Oh no, haven't we done this part already?"

Two Daleks emerged from the shadows, the same ones he'd encountered earlier if he wasn't mistaken.

"_You are the Doctor! You shall be taken to the Dalek Supreme!_"

"Oh, very well then," he said, wincing as he raised his hands. "Go ahead, take me to your leader."

**END OF PART TWO**


End file.
